The Knight, the Witch and the Dragonlord
by Kreuse
Summary: End of season 2. Morgause disappeared with Morgana. But now Morgause is back to ask something to Arthur... so many pairing I won't risk giving any, but ArMor at the core so... Beware, there will be two different endings for the story.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: One of the rare fics I write that are canon-time, but of course not-canon. BBC Canon sucks. The story takes place at the end of season 2; in my world, season 3 does not exist... **

**Disclaimer: Don't own Merlin, and I'm glad I don't.**

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Chapter 1

_« Keep away from her. »_

_The prince took another step forward nonetheless._

'_I will take care of her, Arthur, I promise.'_

_Morgause's voice echoed in his head. She was cradling the inanimate body of Morgana almost tenderly. Then a ferocious wind rose around the two women, pushing everything away. And she disappeared, taking Morgana with her. _

* * *

Arthur straightened up. He had fallen asleep in his chair again. The scene was haunting him, torturing him without mercy. He hadn't say good-bye. He had been so hard on her that last day. She was terrified, witnessing everyone falling under that spell: his father, Gwen, Gaius. And yet he'd pushed, he bullied her to give answers she hadn't had. At some point, she even seemed to think he was threatening to attack her. As if he would do her any harm. She was Morgana! His adoptive sister, his best friend, his nemesis, his first crush, his forever… He had failed her.

Guilt overcame fatigue and he stood stiffly, looking again at that tiny bottle he had gathered from that disastrous day. The label was hardly readable, but it was clear enough that it had contained poison. Merlin had brought the bottle to her. Why? Why was his father not surprised about Morgause taking Morgana away, about her caring for her? He had given his ward away so easily, almost relieved.

Arthur felt too tired to sleep. First, he lost Morgana, and then a dragon escaped from Camelot foundations and nearly destroyed them. Merlin said he gave it a mortal blow. Arthur doubted that. His lance had rebounded upon the hard shell of the beast. The monster didn't even hiss; more truth to draw from Merlin. His father once again wasn't surprised to know about a dragon lurking below the Castle.

Arthur wished he could talk to someone. Anyone. Morgana would have listened. She would have listened and understood and argued with him until dawn. It had driven him crazy, that way she had to always challenge him, to ignore his lead and to object to orders she considered unworthy. She was so annoying and yet he had looked forward to their bickering every day. He missed her.

His pacing took him to the window and Arthur contemplated the half-ravaged city below. He looked for the small house that belonged to Gwen. She refused to stay in the Castle, despite his asking. Morgana was gone and she didn't want to expose herself to gossip. She was still a servant.

'_I thought I lost you.'_

The words had warmed him then. And they shamed him because while her welcoming arms were tightened around him, all he could think about were the dead bodies of his Knights in that clearing, and the damages to the city and the hard days of reconstruction ahead. He loved Gwen. Yet he was the Prince of Camelot before being a man. Was it selfish to ask her to wait for him when he knew that she would come second after duty, always? His heart belonged to Camelot, first and forever. He had loved Gwen, before his world crashed down on him. Morgana would have listened.

Arthur sighed. The Clock-Tower was burned to the ground. He had no way to know how long the night would last. What was the point in lying down if he was to get up again in two hours or so? He could go for a ride, clear his mind with a good gallop. His father would not appreciate his sneaking out, but the days he bound blindly to the King's orders were past.

The stables were quiet. His bay stallion whinnied in greeting. Arthur stroked the powerful neck and walked down the boxes to pick-up his saddle. Morgana's white horse straightened its graceful head when he passed by. No one had ridden the mare in days, by superstition or too vivid pain at the loss of its mistress. He approached the animal, talking softly.

"What do you think, Moonlight? You want to stretch your legs?"

The mare answered his question by pushing its muzzle in his shoulder. He winced; this wound was taking forever to heal. Arthur caressed the velvet nose with a half-smile.

"Okay, I'll take you."

The horse was light-footed and agile. More use to a feminine weight, it danced at first under his heavier rider, before breaking into a steady trot, then a strong gallop. Half-bent over its crest, Arthur let the mare chose its own pace; the wind on his face helped empty his head. They raced through the fields, soon climbing a woody hill. The prince breathed deeply in the fresh air. There was no dust here; no sour smell of burning. The sky was already brightening and he glanced around. He didn't recognize that place, though he knew every corner around Camelot by heart. The clearing was peaceful.

Arthur dismounted to approach a boulder, bridle in hand. The stone revealed itself to be a stele, half-covered by lichen. It was carved with esoteric runes, probably a relic from the Old Religion. He caressed the soft muzzle poking at his arm.

"Did you come here with Morgana before? Hum? It's like her to seek for a place like this."

"More than you think."

Arthur turned around sharply, automatically reaching for his sword. The blond woman in front of him didn't flinch, standing proudly a few meters from him.

"Where is Morgana?" He demanded.

She didn't answer his question. "I need your help."

"My help?" Arthur asked doubtfully.

Then he laughed. The witch who had taken everything from him and half-destroyed his home was seeking for his _help_?

"Arthur, listen to me."

She took one more step toward him and the bitter smile vanished at once.

"Stay where you are. Where is Morgana?"

Gripping his sword with both hands, he watched her pushed away her cloak to take a jug at her belt.

He repeated his query. "Where is Morgana?"

"She followed the Dragon."

"The Dragon is dead."

Arthur recoiled when Morgause approached the stele by his side. Merlin said he killed the Dragon. Did Merlin lie? The woman looked sad and upset.

"Morgana wanted something I couldn't give. So when we heard the Great Dragon was flying again, she decided to follow him."

"And you let her!"He was horrified.

Unbelievable. Morgause gave him an amused smile.

"As if _you_ ever manage to stop her doing what she wanted."

"You're a witch. Get her back."

"I can't." Morgause looked sad.

The blond knelt near the carved stone and began clearing its base carefully. He didn't want to appear interested. He looked anyway and made out a small depression in the stone, like a basin of some sort. Opening the jug, Morgause poured its content into the crook, humming foreign words. The water glowed, boiling with the enchantment, and mist rose from the stone basin, quickly dissipating into the air. Morgause hissed in frustration.

"She's concealed to me. Arthur…"

The beautiful woman turned her head to him. He took one step back, clutching the guard of his blade, ready for the attack. But Morgause didn't attack. She simply fixed her dark eyes into his, saying nothing. Call him stupid, he read genuine worry on the witch's face. She really cared for Morgana, he realized. Arthur lowered his weapon.

"Why can't you see her?"

Morgause left his question unanswered.

"She's in your heart and you're in hers. You can find her. "

"I don't have that kind of talents."

"Just look."

Arthur did as he was told. He needed to know she was safe. He would demand answers later. The water glowed again. All he could see was light and whirlpools shaping in a dark landscape of rock, waves and sand. The image shifted and he saw the familiar lovely figure curled on a bed, sleeping. The vision shifted again and reptilian yellow eyes blinked at him. Arthur jerked back. Morgause murmured in hast and the water vanished from its cradle. He turned to the witch

"Where is she?"

"It looked like the northern seashore. Maybe Caledonia. But she's under Kilgharrah's spell. You have to help me!"

"You tricked and attacked me in the past. Why would I believe you now?"

"We can help each other."

"You promised to protect her." He said bitterly.

Morgause had a little laugh. She stood up, arranging her skirts around her. She didn't bother to answer. Arthur gave up and retreated to his horse. If Morgana was in the North, he could find her himself, on his own terms. _I don't need a sorceress' traitorous ways to save what's mine. _

Morgause called him back as he mounted.

"Call me when you're ready."

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**A/N: As always, the muses will enjoy reviews... ... ...**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N : My beta gave up after four chapters, because she is very busy... So if anyone feels like reading the fic first, and deals with my grammar... PM me!**

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Chapter 2

"_Arthur, you must not go!"_

_He grabbed the wrists of the hysteric woman pleading him to stay. The touch only added to her terror. He'd never seen her so panicked; he was helpless to calm her down._

"_Please, I'm begging you."_

_Morgana jerked, trying to free herself but his grip was far too strong._

* * *

Arthur suddenly woke up, his heart pounding. Vaguely disoriented, he threw his legs out of the bed and stood. The swift movement sent a jolt to his shoulder and he groaned. It was real; the dragon; Morgana's disappearance; Camelot half-ruined. Everything was painfully real. He rubbed a hand over his face. The dream had taken him one year back. He hadn't listened to her warning. She had warned him so often and he ignored her each time. He groaned again.

The splash of water on his face chased the last vestiges of sleep away but not the guilt. Arthur studied his face in the mirror. He couldn't recall feeling this drained ever before. Stress and lassitude had left marks below his eyes and he looked pale; nearly as haggard as Morgana when nightmares plagued her. His lungs tightened as he pictured her tired image in his mind. He could not afford to think about Morgana just yet. He needed some answers from Merlin, and from his father. He had to keep his head on his mission. If what Morgause had shown was real, Morgana was alive, and apparently unharmed.

The light knock reminded him that Merlin was still to show up.

"Come in." He called

"Good day, Arthur."

His servant entered the room with a tray of food and a sheepish smile.

"Sorry to be late. Gaius gave me this for you…"

Merlin handed him a little bottle with a golden liquid.

"What's that?"

"One of Morgana's draughts. You need to sleep, you look exhausted."

Arthur palmed the tiny phial. For a second, he almost thought Morgana was about to walk in, declaring she had slept marvellously and she didn't need potions anymore. Her relief in the last weeks had nearly brought her back, the passionate, caring Morgana he knew. The glimpse of her crouched in the dark on that pitiful bed flashed in his head. There was so much to be done; he couldn't get distracted.

Arthur simply nodded. For once, Merlin's positive energy was insufficient to lighten his mood.

"Did my father asked for me?"

"No Sire. The King is inspecting the north-wall with the masons."

The prince pushed his plate away. Merlin stopped picking up discarded clothes to watch him. A little bottle with a barely readable label appeared on the table. Merlin gulped, and sat on the bed, defeated.

"You found it." Merlin said glumly.

"What is it, Merlin?"

Arthur forced his tone to stay flat. He knew what the bottle was; what it contained. But he wanted Merlin to come clean. As any friend would do. For Merlin, his deceived tone was worse, in a way.

"Morgana was the vessel of the curse affecting us and the only way to stop it was to… I'm sorry…" Merlin faltered "She was my friend too. I poisoned her to force Morgause to lift her spell. She did and she took Morgana away with her, I'm so sorry…"

"You poisoned Morgana."

His own calm surprised him. He should be grabbing the traitor by his damned red scarf and send him rolling down the stairs to the deepest dungeon. His friend, his stomach clenched at the word, had tried to kill Morgana. He should slash him without a hearing. Arthur stared at his servant, immobile. His voice was still deadly poised when he asked.

"What else, Merlin?"

"Morgana was, is a witch. Morgause is her sister."

She was what? Her what? Patience was wearing away. He growled.

"What else?"

Merlin had tried to murder Morgana. More and more ill-at-ease, Merlin looked at his trembling hands; his nervous fingers were clutching the laundry he held.

"You… You didn't kill the Dragon. It flew away."

"Why?"

"Because… Because I asked him to."

Arthur inhaled sharply, his blue eyes widening in recognition.

"You're a dragonlord."

Merlin let himself down to the floor, and brought his knees to his chest. Arthur refused to give in the obvious distress of his friend. He wanted to. One part of him wanted to sit down near Merlin and comfort him. He could not. He needed the whole truth, ugly as it was. Merlin's voice clipped.

"He had me promised… I had promised to free him if he helped."

Fury momentarily blinded him. Three steps took Arthur to the pathetic form on the floor and he grabbed Merlin by the throat, forcing him up.

"YOU unleashed that thing on Camelot IN thanks for his advice to kill Morgana!"

His hand tightened on the other man neck, strangling him. Panicked, Merlin was gasping for air, his vain efforts echoing in hisses. Morgana had moaned exactly the same way when she was dying from the poison. Arthur released his grip, and Merlin fell back on the bed like a puppet.

Blood still hammering in his ears, Arthur retreated to the table and filled his cup, drinking its content in one long gulp.

"Arthur…"

The cup crashed on the wall and rolled to Merlin's feet. Arthur smirked bitterly when he bent to pick it up. Habits died hard.

"I… I have magic."

"Obviously… Dragonlord."

"No, I mean… I can do more than…"

Merlin had poisoned Morgana to save Camelot. He, Arthur, would do anything for Camelot. But to kill a friend? To kill _her_? He was not sure he had enough into him to do that. It took a lot of courage to look willingly into trusting eyes and bring death to them. Merlin had kept so many secrets from him, just like Morgana did. Was he that priggish that his closest friends didn't trust him? Morgana's laugh echoed in his head. '_Don't flatter yourself.'_

The memory brought a small smile on his lips. She would have said just that. For a brief instant, Arthur was tempted to walk back and join Morgause right away. He had another person to talk to first. The most difficult conversation was yet to come.

"Get out." He ordered.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Tons of thanks to Azuquita for the betaing...**

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Chapter 3

_She was kneeling in the straw, looking so vulnerable in the smelly cell where the King had put her. Her eyes showed only disdain when she looked up to him._

"_You. How proud you must be, son of the mighty Uther. How you must look up to him. Does the King's little helper bring a message or have you just come to gloat"_

_He wanted to kneel beside her and hold her. He didn't. He just called the guards. His back was turned on her when they freed her._

* * *

"Father."

The King acknowledged his son with a brief nod before returning his attention to the papers in front of him.

"The masons are set to work on the North Tower as soon as the eastern walls are secured."

"What about the wells and the town?" Arthur asked, brow furrowing.

"We need to ensure our defence first."

The people in the low City had to walk down to the river for water. The trip was hard and dangerous. Bandits, emboldened by the chaos, were plaguing the area. Gaius had pointed the risk of epidemics if water supply wasn't restored. Arthur was about to retort but kept quiet. He would check directly with the masons if one or two men could be dispatched to the water supplying cittern.

Uther was still studying charts and lists, frowning. He looked his mid-forty years these days. His usually hard face wore a perpetual severe expression. His back and shoulders were a bit less straight. He massaged his old wound in his shoulder more often, without even noticing. The King probably lacked his sleep as much as Arthur, maybe more, and it showed.

"Father, who is Morgause?"

The question was abrupt, but there was no way to ask softly. Uther glanced up; the surprise lingered only a second in his cold eyes, before annoyance buried it again.

"You know who she is. She's a witch. She tried to destroy us and she kidnapped Morgana."

Arthur ignored the menacing tone.

"Is she Morgana's sister?"

This time, Uther abandoned his reading and faced his challenging son.

"Who told you so?"

"She did, just before she stormed out with Morgana," Arthur lied.

His father was barely awake at the time so he could not contradict the statement. A part of him hoped he did nonetheless. Maybe there was a mistake? Maybe the witch was someone else, and Morgana was just Morgana. But deep down, he knew Merlin had told him the truth.

"Is Morgause Morgana's sibling, Father?"

"Yes, she is."

Arthur stayed silent. The acknowledgement only added to the weight on his stomach. Uther sat and mechanically rubbed his shoulder again. Arthur waited, bracing himself for the ugliness he knew was coming.

"Gorlois' wife was a devoted follower of the old religion. She practiced magic and was condemned for it. Morgana was just a baby at the time, but Morgause was about 3 years-old, and already showing she had inherited her mother's… abilities. Gorlois agreed to take his elder girl away from the baby so she didn't corrupt her. The rest is history."

His father was carefully avoiding speaking out loud of Morgana's eventual powers. The King gave him flat facts for his blind destruction of Morgana's family. He spoke so coldly. The twisted logic angered Arthur. _How could you, Father? How could you foster her, love her like a daughter, knowing what you did to her family? How could you turn a blind eye to her growing powers, in contradiction to yours very own edicts? _

He hesitated. Forcing Uther to talk about Morgana's magic might lead to a conclusion neither wanted. _The Code bends for no one. _He chose another question instead.

"Did Morgana know she had a sister?" Arthur asked.

Uther shook his head. "No, she didn't. Nor did she know I killed her mother."

Arthur turned from the old man in front of him to look at the Courtyard below.

"She certainly does now." He said softly.

"Probably. She won't forgive me."

The words were not that cold now. The King could not regret. The guardian obviously did. Arthur faced his father again.

"Knowing that," he didn't specify what '_that' _was, her certain grudge or her magic, "would you welcome her back?"

Uther held his son's stare for the first time since the beginning of their conversation. His voice was as hard as his clear eyes were piercing,

"I do hope I don't have to tell you where your duty lies. Stop wasting my time."

Arthur bowed swiftly, carefully keeping his face emotionless until he exited the room.

The prince crashed into his chair. What a fine prince he was, indeed; she had blinded him, like everyone, with her ethereal personification of a lady. He had looked only at her sublime image and listened to her witty retorts, unable to see beyond them. He mistook wariness for aloofness. Fear, and not jealousy, had brightened her eyes all this time.

"Prince Arthur?"

"Guinevere. I… How are you doing?"

Her sweet grin was a relief in his evening. He wanted to smile back, but somehow the gesture felt more like a smirk on his face, and he gave up.

"I'm fine. Merlin is very busy with Gaius, so he asked me to bring your dinner."

He doubted Merlin was _that_ busy. His servant probably wanted to avoid any further questioning, or facing the consequences of their previous conversation. Or he was trying to smooth things by helping him to spend some time with Gwen.

"Thank you. Would you stay for a few minutes?"

"Of course."

Gwen hesitated a few seconds, before joining him at the table. Being casual always put her ill-at-ease, especially when they were in the castle. She felt so out of her league here, whatever efforts Arthur made.

"How are you doing?"

She smiled at the repetition. He was probably just as uncomfortable as she was. He looked tired and if she knew him one bit, vaguely depressed.

"I'm fine. The reconstruction had begun now, and people are reassured to see the masons at work. They think we are safe now."

_Are we safe?_ He could hear the question behind her chit-chat.

Arthur said nothing for a few minutes. The food had a tang of dust. Or maybe he just tasted the gloom of the whole day. He pushed his plate away without finishing the stew. Gwen cast him a reproachful glance, but he refused to give into the guilt. The day had been hard enough as it was. He had no desire to force himself to eat because someone might not have a decent meal tonight. He refilled his cup of wine; he wanted water. He didn't want to ask Gwen to fetch some. So he sipped the strong drink heartlessly and asked, "You knew? About Morgana's sister?"

The question took her by surprise and she blushed, glancing away.

"She told me the wrist-band Morgause had given her had her family crest on it."

Everybody knew, it seemed, except him. Gwen played with her apron, twisting the linen with nervous fingers. Arthur took another sip. His next remark took her attention back to him.

"I miss her. More than I thought I would."

Surprised by his admission, Gwen nodded. She missed Morgana too, _her_ Lady Morgana, not that distant image she had become after Morgause left her first mark on Camelot. His voice reverberated in the silent room.

"I'm going after Morgana."

Her eyes narrowed on his face. He showed nothing but hard resolve.

"You know where she is?" she asked.

"Her place is here. With me. With us. It always was. I'll bring her back."

The brief flash of hope that had blossomed disappeared when the full meaning of his statement sank in. Gwen got up and began cleaning the table. Her changed of mood did not escape Arthur but he could not fathom to care. She exited with a short bow.

Arthur leaned back in his chair. He hurt her feelings. He knew he had. He drank some of his wine again, discarding the thought. Going north meant stepping on Hengist's territories, or crossing Olaf's estate. He had no desire to come anywhere near Vivian if he could avoid it. So he would travel discretely through Hengist's. No escort, no big rescue party, only him and Merlin - and Morgause. Arthur smirked, playing with the tiny bottle Gaius had given him in the morning. The knight, the witch, and the dragonlord: the most improbable association Camelot could think about.

He needed to sleep, a good sleep, sound and deep, without ghosts of his failures haunting him. Arthur gulped the draught without second-guessing.

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**A/N: If you're nice (ie review), next chapter will bring some news of Morgana...**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N : I know, I know, the chapter is very short... But finally you'll have some news from Morgana...**

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Chapter 4

The sun is already up when I wake up. I slept well. Did I dream? The idea of pleasant dreams makes me smile, though I don't understand why. My mind seems so confused these days.

I look through the window at the surrounding fields and the sea beyond. The water is cornflower blue, instead of cobalt. I don't know why I want it to be darker. I love the sea; the salty scent is familiar. I will walk to the seashore today and indulge in the glorious scent from the ocean. I don't have anything else to do anyway.

I feel a little lonely. The manor is perfectly furnished, but it's empty of human beings. Is this home? The woman who comes every day to help me with the chores seems to think so. She's nice but she is always in a hurry, eager to leave the place. Her name is Helen. She's much more talkative when I go by her house in the small village. She lives alone too; her husband is dead, I think. I'm not sure. She does not talk about it. She's the only local talking to me. Others keep away.

I don't how many days I've been here; maybe I have just arrived, maybe not. Helen won't tell. I know I'm not from the area, for my accent is different from hers. But I have no idea where I come from. I don't remember much about myself; I have only vague feelings and a name, my name. I'm Ana. The name echoes in my head when I dream of children playing together, a boy and a girl. The girl is me, I'm sure of it. I don't know who the boy is. I don't know his name, there my memory fails me. In my dreams we play together or we bicker, like siblings used to tease and argue.

How do I know how brother and sister act with one another? Some things I know, reading, manners, and some I don't, like my father's name or where I was before waking up here. Is the boy of my dreams my brother? We don't look alike. He has golden hair and I'm raven. My green eyes are so clear sometimes they look transparent. What color are his eyes? His face is always blurred. Sometimes, in my dreams, we are grown-ups. He is clad in armour then, so I still can't see him properly. But I feel that we care for each other deeply. If we are not, were not of the same kin, were we lovers? I wish I could remember who he is. I wonder why I remember him, when I can't remember anything else. Helen says not to push on getting back my memory; she says, what I have to know, I'll know.

It's nearly noon already. I should get going if I want to enjoy the fair weather. It changes so quickly here. Yesterday night was stormy, low sky and angry waves, but today is beautiful. I wrap-up some cheese and a piece of the bread I made yesterday with Helen's help; I'm clumsy in the kitchen. I don't know how to cook or how to do ordinary housework. Helen says I must be a lady. My hands are soft, without calluses, the hands of someone not used to hard work; a noble's hands. I hope she's wrong. I don't want to be a bird in a golden cage, some picture one puts on the wall for decoration. I fear she is right. I live in this huge manor; there are gowns folded in the cupboard and they are of fine silk or soft velvet. Some chests are full of jewels and gold. I don't know if they're mine. Maybe they are.

I'm glad Helen handed me practical wool clothes and solid leather boots. Somehow, looking at the precious dresses is painful. I don't want pain. I just want to be happy and free. Helen promised me she will teach me how to spin and to weave. So next winter, I can help her with the wool from the sheared sheep.

The air on the seashore is fresh, slightly chilly. Is it Fall already? I don't know. I don't remember.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Given the previous chapter was kind of super-short, here is another one... You'll have to wait a little for the next one, though.**

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Chapter 5

_She had_ _been sitting in front of him at dinner. If he hadn't been that preoccupied (horrified more like it) by his father's stupid pining over the Lady Catrina, he would have noticed the subtle shadows under her eyes, and how her face looked more feline, thinner with the lack of sleep. It was obvious now. But he was so engrossed with the situation then._

"_She makes him happy, Morgana. Not just for one moment or even for five minutes, but happy all the time."_

The sleeping potion might have been ineffective against Morgana's nightmares, but it worked on him just fine. Arthur yawned and stretched, still a little groggy from the artificial sleep, though he felt rested, and much more light-hearted than he had in days.

"Breakfast."

Merlin put his tray on the table and waited for Arthur to dig in before he started tidying the room. The water tasted wonderful on his tongue, still heavy with the drug. Arthur drained his cup and refilled it to drink again.

"Pack what is necessary for several days in the woods."

"We're going hunting?"

"Yeah, something like that."

The sounds of hammer and the shouts from the men at work were coming through the open window. Merlin glanced at the battered courtyard. Had Arthur decided to leave now, when things were so messed up, the knights destroyed, enemies plotting at the gates?

"No."

His master looked up from his plate. Merlin pouted.

"You can't go hunting now. What will the King say? And the people? And Gwen?"

The glare he received was icy. Merlin snorted. He had nearly killed his friend. He had faced a dragon. He had revealed his deepest secrets. He had not given away so much to let Arthur return to his selfish ways. No way.

"You can't abandon them for… for sport! You are better than that."

"I don't remember asking for your opinion, Merlin. We're going."

"What would _she_ think about it?"

He didn't mean Gwen this time. Arthur stood and faced the young man. Merlin fought the urge to step back. He jerked when Arthur's hand crushed heavily on his shoulder. The prince gave a brief nod, the ghost of a smile on his mouth, quickly disappearing.

"You are braver than you look, Merlin. We're leaving at noon."

Arthur left him puzzled, and walked to the south aisle of the Castle. He rarely went that way. The south wing housed the dungeons and the darker side of Camelot: prisons, vaults, crypts. Arthur picked up a torch and pushed the solid grill in front of him. A large staircase brought him to a small platform carved in stone. Holding his light high above his head, he tried not to gasp at the enormous void in front of him. The cavern seemed endless. He could not see its roof. The walls seemed narrow to the eye, but they were so far away the flame of his torch didn't even reflect on them.

Another series of steps was leading to the bottom. Arthur automatically unsheathed his sword and started going down. The steps were uneven and he progressed slowly, careful to stay away from the abyss. The stairs went forever spiralling into the natural rock-pit. Finally, he reached the bottom and saw the remains of the massive chain lying on the ground. Something cracked beneath his boots. He didn't care to find out what caused the crackling noise.

He just wanted to see it for himself before going on his quest for Morgana. It was real. A dragon had lived there. For more than twenty years, a dragon had haunted this place and he knew nothing of it. Arthur ventured a bit further into the hole. Shells and bones were forming a strange gleaming floor over the dusty ground.

A shell crushed to dust under his foot, and he gazed down. The movement sent light on the soil and something reflected the glint. Arthur bent down to pick it up. He recognized the artistic guard and the curvy blade: a sword of Medhir, or what was left of it. Breaking the magical chain restraining the dragon had destroyed the sword; only a short length of steel remained after the guard. It was useless. Arthur was tempted to keep it. The guard was in good shape, easy on the hand. The blade could be remastered. He threw the weapon away. The Knights of Medhir had cost him a lot. The past was the past. He started his climb back into daylight.

Merlin looked at the big stallion warily.

"He doesn't like me."

"Don't be stupid. Hurry up."

"Why don't you take your own horse, and I take the mare?"

"Get on that horse, Merlin. Now."

Arthur was already on his saddle, patience running short by the second. He wanted to go before his father came out and asked about their so-called hunting trip. Uther had agreed to his mission; sort of. There was no need to push luck.

"Where are we going?"

"North."

"Can you be a little more specific?"

"Shut up, Merlin."

Merlin glanced at his friend. Arthur would usually be relaxed when he was to go on a hunt. He would have joked. He'd describe the art of tracking his prey and the swift killing so it didn't suffer. He would brag on his latest success. Arthur was not joking now. He was tense and focused. He had the same concentrated look he has before a tournament. One hand guiding his mount (why on earth had he decided to take Morgana's horse?), he had the other playing on his sword's hilt.

They stopped at the top of a small hill. Merlin knew the place. He had camped here once. It was here that he had practiced magic to play with the smoke of his fire. The trick that had brought the witch-finder to Camelot and nearly had Gaius killed.

Arthur dismounted and walked to an erect place carved with runes. He closed his eyes for a brief instant, then inhaled sharply.

"I'm here, Morgause. Show yourself."

Horrified, Merlin grabbed his shoulder. Arthur hissed in pain and pushed him away roughly.

"Are you crazy? What are you doing?"

"Back off, Merlin. Morgause!"

"You said we were going to hunt!"

"No, you said we were. I said _'something like that.' _Morgause!"

The prince crouched near the stele. For a second, he thought it was vibrating in his hand, but no. He sighed. Had she tricked him again? Had she led him here while she plotted another attack? Arthur got up abruptly, turning to go back to his horse.

"What is HE doing here?"

The beautiful woman was pointing at Merlin. The young warlock was holding their horses' bridles, very pale.

"Morgause. I nearly waited."

Merlin would have loved to contradict that, but it was not really the good moment. The chocolate eyes narrowed on his face. Then she smirked. Merlin blinked, and her predatory smile was inches from him, though they didn't see her moving. Her blazing eyes remained locked to his, while she addressed Arthur disdainfully.

"I suggest you watch you _servant _carefully, Prince Arthur. We would not want him to run into trouble."

Merlin blushed furiously, utterly embarrassed and unsure if it was because of the threat or the gorgeous mouth moving millimetres away from his. Arthur frowned at the menace.

"We're here for Morgana, and nothing else. Don't you forget that."

Morgause took a short breath, still inches from Merlin, looking down on him like a cat on a mouse between its paws. Then she stepped back very slowly. Merlin resisted the urge to breathe deeply.

"Very well, then. Let's go."

"Where is she? Is she alright? Arthur, is Morgana alright?"

Arthur turned to his friend, surprised to hear tears in his voice. There were tears in his gaze too. He took the bridle back from him and caressed the soft white muzzle before climbing back on his mount.

"She seemed so yesterday, Merlin. Come on now."

* * *

**A/N Green is cool... Love the green button nearby ;)**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

* * *

_He arranged the long cloak behind her on the horse__'s back. The bloody red was aggressive on the white robe of her mount, and made her looked even paler._

"_I hope your trip won't be too upsetting."_

_If only he had seen her distress instead of longing after Gwen._

* * *

She led them east. Arthur could tell for the late-afternoon sun was warming his back. He shifted in his saddle. Merlin was jittery, glancing constantly from the blond woman in front of them to him. From time to time, he opened his mouth to speak or ask something, and then closed it again without a word. Arthur usually blessed every moment Merlin was silent. At the moment, it was just getting on his nerves.

"Merlin, stop gawping you're not a fish."

"Yes Sire. I mean, no, I'm not… Sorry."

He peeked toward Morgause again. Arthur sighed and resigned himself to the uncomfortable silence.

"Are you sure this is not a trap?"

Arthur considered the straight figure ahead before answering.

"No, I'm not sure."

"Do you know where Morgana is?"

"Not exactly; Morgause said Caledonia."

"Why is Morgana not with her?"

"She said Morgana followed the dragon to ask for something."

"Ask for what?"

"I don't know, Merlin."

The endless questions were more annoying than the awkward silence, Arthur decided. Or maybe, his lack of proper answers was the real problem. He pouted.

Merlin grinned, "You lied."

"Absolutely not."

"You let me think we were going on a hunt."

"Well, we are. We are chasing Morgana who is chasing the dragon."

"With a declared witch. Does your father know about this?"

"We didn't go into specifics."

"So you lied to him too."

"I never lie, Merlin."

The broad grin on his friend's face felt good. Not that he needed reassurance. He _was_ doing the right thing. But it felt good nonetheless. It took a while before they spoke again. Their silence was not bothering Arthur this time, but he was the one to break it.

"She was sleeping. When I saw her image in the water. She looked peaceful."

"I'm sorry I hurt her… I should not have… But I had no choice..."

"Merlin," Arthur nearly snarled. He didn't want to discuss that.

"I'll shut up now."

"Good idea."

The sun was setting down. The night would fall quickly, so Morgause decided to stop for the night. She kept to herself while Merlin and Arthur put the camp together and build a fire.

Growing up near a suspicious mind like his father's had taught Arthur not to rely on unexpected allies. He glanced at the woman sat opposite to him. The campfire was casting shadows and lights on her delicate face. It was apparent that beauty was a common trait to the sisters. But when Morgana's gracious figure was nearly angelic, Morgause's appeal was more primeval. Morgause looked like fire, yet he could feel an icy edge to her. Morgana masked the fire within her behind a mask of cold indifference.

He pushed a log with his stick; sparks erupted above the fire.

"Why are we going east? You said Morgana is in Caledonia; north"

"The quicker way to go to her is by the sea."

Merlin groaned. Riding the sea was no better than riding a horse. His stomach was flipping over already. Arthur ignored him, fixated on the blond woman.

"What is it you're not telling me, Morgause?"

Arthur held the dark stare gauging him, immobile. The blond sneered. After a while, her expression changed into a smirk. There was definitely something savage about her, and not in a way he liked. Morgause turned her back to him, lying down to rest. Arthur didn't move, taking the first guard. She hadn't answered his questions.

* * *

Merlin sighed dramatically. The boat looked like… a boat. It was huge, with a tall mast and a flat bottom, and rolling with the flow. The hull was large enough to accommodate their three horses, several barrels of seed and what seemed to be dry meat.

The captain was an enormous piece of a man, with a thick Irish accent and a braid beard. He briefly nodded to them when they came aboard, but returned to chat after the ship left the bay. Talking to Arthur, he gestured toward Merlin, "Your servant looks a little green."

"He'll be fine. How long will it take to reach our destination?"

"Two days. Maybe three, depending of the weather. It's early in the season but the waters are roughing already."

Arthur nodded. Merlin gulped at the news.

"How is it up north?" asked Morgause with a suave smile.

The mariner pulled on his beard, uncomfortable, "As weird as ever. Those Cumbria people, they like spooky talks, they do."

"What do you mean, _spooky_?" Arthur leaned casually on the boarder. His tone was light, but Merlin could tell he was deeply interested.

The captain turned to the prince to answer, "All sort of crazy tales they spread. Ghosts. Dragons. Witches. And they attract the peculiars. Just last week, I had one who claimed he fought a copper knight, no less. Another wanderer, I'm sure. He will rent his sword for a couple of coins, seduce the wife of his master, and take off to battle windmills afterward."

The man roared with laughter. Arthur approved, a fake grin on his face. His eyes were steel blue.

"Ghosts and witches? That's old-women nonsense…"

"I agree my Lord. Those people are superstitious to a fault. Show them a lizard running away between two stones, and they see a dragon lurking in a cavern."

Morgause changed the subject abruptly, "I heard that the grottos near Whitehaven are magnificent."

"That they are, my Lady."

"Captain!"

The call from his second in command had their confidant excuse himself. Arthur darted his eyes to Morgause, "You knew about this."

"Only rumours."

He took a step toward her, fists clenched, menacing. She came asking for his help, reviving his hopes to have Morgana again, but she didn't deign to share the few information she had.

"You'd better tell…"

The witch only smirked. Arthur ground his teeth. The hunt was on her terms and he hated that. Keeping him in the dark, misleading him until he made a fool of himself was another trait the sisters had in common. But at least Morgana sometimes acted as if she cared. Frustrated, Arthur turned his back to the blonde and tugged Merlin to the bow.

Poor Merlin tumbled on his feet as the ship hit a wave. The constant up and down of the deck was giving him nausea. One minute he felt like a dwarf, plumped and heavy, and the next his insides stretched to the thinnest line, until his heart sunk back in his twisted stomach again.

He gulped awkwardly, "How long did he say this hell is going to last?"

Arthur neglected to answer the complaint.

"I don't trust her."

"Neither do I. But we can't backtrack now, can we? Ow…"

Another wave crashed on the hull, making the vessel rolled a little more. Merlin pinched his lips firmly and clutched his stomach in a visible effort not to empty its content on the spot.

Arthur tapped his shoulder with a smile, "Relax Merlin. You'll appreciate the trip quite soon. No one dies of seasickness anyway."

"There's a first time for everything."

* * *

**A/N Next chapter is Morgana's. In the meantime...**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

I hurry in the rain to Helen's house. The clear days of fall are completely over now and the stormy weather installed over us will probably turn into snow very soon. I don't mind. I like the dark skies and the dark silver colour they give to the water. The sea smells differently in the rain. The scent is almost metallic and I imagine battles sound exactly like the strong hammering of thunder. But what do I know about wars and battles? I never met a soldier ever before.

I'm completely drenched by the time I reach Helen's. She fusses over me with towels and hot tea. My hairs are so wet my braid is heavy on my back. I don't want to loosen them, they will curl endlessly and tangle, but Helen insists so I let her. She brushes my hair and the gesture is comforting. Maybe my mother used to brush my hair like she does now? Or a maid? I still don't remember about my younger years. Helen twists the long curl into a bun, it reveals my neck, she says; it gives me the allure of a queen. I don't want that. I don't know who I am, but I am not a queen, not even a princess. This I know. I don't want the burden or the constant scrutiny of Court. I shake my head and my hair fall again all over me. I like it better that way.

Helen gives me the last piece of gossip over tea and sweet bread. A stranger arrived yesterday. She says the waitresses at the tavern are all over him, because he's very handsome and he acts like a knight. Even Mistress Marion had good words for him. Helen winks at me; maybe I should invite him to dinner? After all, I live in that huge manor by the sea, posing as the lady of these lands... It is duty to welcome him to the area. She's been teasing me since I told her about my dreams of that blond boy. She says a beautiful young woman needs a man in her bed to keep her warm at night. Am I beautiful? My skin is so pale every shadow looks like a bruise on me. And with my high cheekbones and transparent eyes, I look supercilious even when I smile. But I'm not. I don't want to be. I know I'm not.

The afternoon is pleasant. I like Helen's company, but with the bad weather, dusk will come soon and I have to go back. It's still raining, a disagreeable mist of a rain, and the fog is already rising from the sea. If I delay my walk back even more, it will be dangerous. My cloak is warm; it was hanging near the fire to dry. When I closed it more tightly around me, the smell of smoke and cinders engulfs me. It's suffocating. I push the cloak away to get some fresh air. Breathing becomes easier slowly. I prefer to breathe in the rain and the fog, rather that that horrid stench clutching my lungs and my stomach. Even my heart squeezed painfully because of it. I've never feared fire before. Why do I now?

The road is slippery with wet moss and dead leaves; I have to watch my step. The fog is quickly thickening, but I don't have far to go now, hardly a mile. I should have left Helen's sooner, instead of listening to her fantasies about a stranger with dark eyes and a sword. I hurry, I want to be home; I slip a little but I'm confident, I know this path by heart. Another missed step and I lose my balance.

"Be careful, My Lady."

A strong arm steadies me before I fall. I turn to thank my saviour. He _is_ very handsome. He's tall, a lot taller than me and his shoulders are so broad I would completely disappear in his embrace. His eyes are very dark; so dark I can hardly tell the difference between the iris and the pupil. Not that I'm looking. God, am I blushing? He is still holding me around the waist, which is very improper, but it's nothing compared with the intense gaze caressing my face right now. His voice is rich, low, and… surprised:

"My Lady Morgana?"

"You must be mistaken, my name is Ana.. Do I know you?"

His eyes search my face again; he looks confused.

"Lancelot, My Lady. I came to Camelot two years ago. I am a friend of Gwen, and Merlin."

I don't know these names. I wish I do. If Gwen and Merlin were friends, then this man, Lancelot, will be a friend, too. I know no Camelot. I don't know Merlin. I don't know Gwen.

He is to say something again, but he doesn't. His hand takes mine. They are so gentle after the strong hold which prevented me from falling. He barely brushed his lips over it when he bows. I blush again.

A thunder shakes the sky and the pouring rain intensifies. He has let go of my hand and offers his arm instead.

"We can't stay here. May I?"

I nod and we set off quickly to the manor. I will have the newcomer visit me after all. Helen is going to love this.

* * *

Confused, Lancelot cast a quick glance to the woman walking by his side. He was not mistaken. She was indeed the lady Morgana, Gwen's mistress. Maybe she didn't remember him? It'd been a while since his stay at Camelot and they had socialized only once or twice at the time, briefly talking at his knighting ceremony or when he hung out with Merlin and Gwen.

They arrived at a big stone house and she let them both inside quickly, closing the heavy door with a sigh of relief. The hall was feebly lit, but she stopped there only an instant, taking off her cloak before inviting him to follow her to a more welcoming room. The fire there was still glowing softly. He looked at her walking around quickly to light some candles, and hung their damped clothing near the chimney to dry.

Her actions put him completely off balance. He had come to pay his respect to the ruler of these lands and proposed his services as a guard, not put off by the tales of the strange figure living alone in the manor up the hill. What did she do in such a remote place? She had given no signs of recognition over their friends' names. She didn't even acknowledge her own. Morgana excused herself and came back only moments later, with dry towels and a tray.

Embarrassed, Lancelot dried his hair and his face quickly. She was busying herself with a kettle to make some tea. She was rather gauche, but the resolute look on her face stopped him when he moved forward to help her.

"My Lady…"

"Ana, please."

"I'm not sure I can call you that, My Lady."

She frowned a little, before an uncertain smile played on her lovely mouth.

"Why not?"

"I… You don't remember me?"

The self-assured Lady Morgana he had met would never blush like that, nor would she give such an innocent smile for an answer. What had happened to her?

"I'm sorry. Did we meet before?"

He searched her face for a tease, an indication of her strange behaviour. Her eyes reflected nothing but confusion. A brief glint of gold clouded the green stare fixed on him. It was only a shadow from the fire coming back to life. Lancelot retreated behind a half-truth.

"Only briefly, My Lady. You were staying at the royal court of Camelot at the time."

"Oh."

* * *

I know kings. I've been invited to stay in their castles. That explains the fine dresses in the chests and the jewels. Maybe I am a lady, was a lady. I don't feel like a lady now with my humid simple dress and my hair tangling in wild curls on my back. I wish I have one of these dresses on now; silk would not itch on my skin the way the humid wool of my current attire is. I just want to be comfortable; this has nothing to do with looking nice, nothing to do with my charming visitor.

Lancelot insists on serving tea himself. He is very tactful. He guessed my lack of memories bothers me, so he does not question me about my whereabouts since our last encounter in that place, Camelot as he called it.

We sip our beverage quietly while the tempest raged outside. I'm a dreadful hostess. I have to force myself to concentrate on the light conversation. Keeping my eyes open is difficult. My head is heavy. It hurts. I feel vaguely nauseous. Lancelot looks concerned and stands up.

"I should leave you to rest."

Despite the coming migraine hammering in my temples, I still know my manners. I just don't want to be alone in this foreign house tonight. I mention there are plenty of rooms here. Will he accept my hospitality for the night?

"Only if you take some rest."

He is very sweet.

* * *

**A/N: Told you to expect some surprise with this fic...**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

_Arthur made a careful step into the water. It was muddy and the sand moved under his feet. He stumbled and quickly returned to the safety of the shore. The ten-year-old girl splashed water at him, urging him to join her._

"_Come on! Don't tell me you're afraid of water."_

"_Am not. I simply have more important things to do than play all day long in a stupid pond."_

_Morgana recognized the haughty reply for what it was and she held her arms to him. She was not mocking him anymore._

"_Come, I will teach you how to swim."_

* * *

By the end of the following day, Merlin felt like dying. The wind was pushing high waves on the hull, shaking the ship left and right. The lateral movement, added to the 'normal' up and down of the boat, was agonising. The captain explained the rough seas were just as expected within the northern waters but it didn't help with the constant nausea and the unbearable tight in his throat.

While his servant lied on his bunk and whined, Arthur spent a good part of the day with the horses, calming both his stallion and Morgana's white mare with caresses and soothing words. The animals were nervous due to the bad weather, and so was he, even if he didn't want to admit it. He blamed the discomfort on Morgause. The witch was refusing to answer questions or explain anything. Her attitude was irking. Had he made the right choice, letting his emotions take over his head and joining her on this?

Arthur pushed away the doubts when she joined him in the cargo area after their light supper (_he_ wasn't suffering from an upset stomach, but why push luck?). Morgause patted the delicate nose of her own mount before turning to him.

"I need to know she's alright."

Arthur stopped caressing the mare and glanced at her. She was pale, inspecting him with ardent eyes. Her apparent disarray unsettled him. Annoyed, he refused to give in.

"Use your magic then. You have plenty of water to look into."

"You know full well my vision is ineffective on her."

Arthur snorted.

"You are yet to explain that. And why she took off, too."

Morgause glared at him. Disdain and anxiety were a curious mix on her proud face.

"I told you. She asked for something I couldn't give."

"And what was that? You asked for my help, Morgause. Now you have it, at least be honest with me."

The woman pushed her long blond hair aside to consider the challenging man before her. Arthur held her stare stubbornly. He had years of practice regarding silent glares. Morgana had taught him well. Morgause renounced the contest first.

"Morgana wanted a spell that outlives everything."

"What kind of spell?"

Morgause went on with her explanation, "The spells a sorcerer cast upon others lift when he dies. But it is said that a sortilege cast by a Dragon can survive Time itself, for Dragons don't simply have magic, they _are_ magic."

"What did Morgana want, Morgause?"

The blonde returned her attention to the animals. The wind shaking the boat hurled outside; someone shouted orders about hauling the sail. Arthur tried to relax the grip he had on the bridle, frustrated with Morgause's half-explanation. Morgana followed the Dragon for a spell, fine. What spell? What mattered enough that she threw caution to the wind and escaped her own sister to get it? Why did she want the enchantment to survive everything, even death?

Arthur exhaled slowly, failing to release some of the tension twisting his stomach. Morgana was too emotional for her own good, always had been. He wished she never changed. Her passions used to balance his own cautious ways.

Morgause' soft plea pulled him out of his thoughts, her urgent tone softening the order.

"I need to know she's alright."

He needed to know Morgana was alright, too.

"Fine. How do we do it?"

"I will see her through your dreams."

The last thing Arthur wanted was the witch pecking inside his head; especially if he was dreaming of Morgana.

"No. Use a bowl of water or something."

"We can't. The enchantment I performed last time won't work here. Dreams are the only way…"

The last time, something - the dragon maybe, had interrupted the vision.

"Merlin will do it."

"But…"

"No buts, Morgause. You'll explain it to Merlin and he will guide me through."

She gave in. Morgana would have resisted forever, until _he _accepted her conditions. He missed her so much...

Merlin was no more overjoyed at the idea of learning the spell than that _she_ was to teach it. At least while he argued, he stopped complaining about his stomach.

"She says it's the only way to know how Morgana is doing, Merlin."

"I never performed a mind-binding spell before. It's very advanced magic. It may take a while to master."

"I'd rather have you poking inside my head than her."

His friend sneered.

"Wipe that smug out of your face, Merlin, and do it."

Morgause explained that the enchantment was simply a catalyst, to help Arthur focus. And Merlin would be allowed to see what Arthur was dreaming about. Merlin repeated the incantation after Morgause, stumbling on the musical words at first.

"What does it mean?"

Morgause sighed impatiently.

_"I dream of my heart."_

Arthur winced but said nothing. Merlin repeated the formula three or four times before looking up to the prince.

"Okay, I think I got it."

"Great. Now what?"

Morgause gestured Arthur to lie on his bunk. Her knowing smile was really wearing on his nerves. He looked away from the blonde and up to the ceiling. Merlin sat nervously on the edge of the bed near him. Arthur straightened up on his elbows.

"What?"

Patience was never one of his virtues and the idea of having someone looking at his dreams was disturbing enough without the constant hesitation of his friend.

"What if I do it wrong?"

"Merlin…"

"What if you don't dream about Morgana? '_I dream of my heart'_, what if you dream of… Of Gwen?"

He glared, ignoring the smirk on Morgause's face.

"I won't. Do it, Merlin."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Just do it."

Arthur lied on his back again and closed his eyes. The young warlock sighed heavily, and put one hand over the heart of Arthur, the other one on his forehead. The prince froze at the contact, but forced his body to relax. Merlin's hands were trembling slightly and were uncomfortably moist with nerves.

"_Alom bol sivem valamin"_

Merlin started reciting the charm over and over and the awkwardness passed away. The fingers on him were heavy now, nearly painful. Arthur could feel his heart slowing, the weight on his chest and on his head clouding his mind as he drifted into slumber.

* * *

_The chamber was brightly lit. Arthur recognized the tall cupboard on one side and the chest by the foot of the tall four-post bed: he was in Morgana's bedroom in Camelot. He turned to the bed. Her pale face was nearly as white as her sheets. _

'_We can't let her die! If there's one chance in a million he can save her…' _

* * *

This was a piece of their past, the strange ailment that nearly killed her when Edwin tried to take revenge on his father. He didn't want to see that. He wanted to see Morgana.

* * *

_Morgana was standing at the top of the great stairs of the west tower, watching through the tall window. While he climbed up to her, he noticed how far away she looked, escaping him already. 'There's someone to see you.' Her smile glowed and she embraced Gwen as he walked away. He had walked away from her so many times. He didn't want to see his abandons of her. He wanted to see Morgana._

_He was in Gwen's main room in her cottage, the morning before their departure. Guinevere was standing near the chimney silently. She didn't say 'Be safe' or even 'Bring her home'. She simply nodded, and looked away. The flowers he brought stayed untouched on the table. _

* * *

He didn't want to think about their silent goodbye. He wanted to see Morgana.

* * *

Merlin gestured toward the blonde beauty behind him.

"It's not working. I did it wrong…"

"Idiot, you had to keep your hands on him! The connection is broken now!"

Merlin shrugged, "Sorry."

Anger boiled in her eyes, Morgause snapped at him, "How can someone so powerful be so clumsy? With powers like yours, if well-trained, you could be a ruler among us. But you bid yourself to the silly orders of this one, hiding who you are, just because you're _scared_."

Merlin gritted his teeth, "Better serves a good man than rules with an evil one."

Morgause's sneer turned into something else, something he didn't care to interpret, sadness maybe, or a hopeless resolve. Her voice was softer when she spoke, "No one is completely good or evil, Merlin. Right, wrong, they are just different choices with different consequences."

He considered her answer for a while.

"I don't think so. Maybe all is not black and white, but some choices save people. That's good."

"So poisoning my sister to save Uther was good?" The soft tone was gone, and she was bitter again.

"You left me no choice! Everybody in Camelot was going to die, not just Uther! Everybody! Including Arthur! I couldn't let that happen."

His eyes fixed on the sleeping form of his friend on the bunk. Arthur was peaceful in his sleep. He hoped his dreams were more pleasant that the ones he witnessed.

"Arthur will be a great king someday. You respect him, I can see that. You fight him because he stands between you and Uther, but you don't try to hurt him intentionally. What do you see when you look at him?"

The genuine smile on her face surprised him, before her sweet face hardened again.

"That is none of your business."

"Fine. I guess it is good night, then."

Morgause glared, but there was nothing she could do. She retired to her own quarters.

Merlin sat on the floor near Arthur's bunk, and started his watch. At least he didn't suffer from seasickness anymore.

* * *

_Arthur opened the door quietly. The room was spacious, with a couple of chests, a small table and two armchairs around the chimney. One glance in the mirror revealed a slender woman lying in the large bed; Morgana. Arthur took one step toward her, and then stopped. Something was wrong. Her body was tossing in the sheets. Her eyes were wide open but she didn't acknowledge him._

"_Morgana?"_

_She didn't react to his voice. Arthur approached the bed, holding his breath. Her face was flushed; her feverish eyes were glimmering like gold. He sat near her on the bed and touched her cheek gently. Her skin was burning hot. Arthur spotted a jar and towels, near the hairdresser, and brought it to the bedside to bathe her face and her throat. The cool cloth pressed on her forehead seemed to relieve her. Her eyes closed and she mumbled a few words he failed to catch. Her body stopped jolting as she calmed down, fever breaking away._

_Arthur covered her hand with his. He had forgotten how fragile her fingers were. Her whole figure was leaner than he remembered. She was exquisite, porcelain skin and raven hair spilled over the pillows. He whispered in the silent room, "What happened to you, Morgana?"_

_Her now tranquil form stayed still, curled in the blankets, and he received no answer. He grinned, playing with a strand of hair on her cheek._

"_You used to say you hated playing the damsel in distress and the dragon... What did you do this time? I really can't leave you alone without you running into trouble."_

_She turned in her sleep, escaping his touch to rest on her side with her back to him. He wondered if he could climb into bed with her and just hold her. Would she wake up and smile at him if he did? More probably she would slap him hard enough to make his ears ring._

_Arthur simply bent to brush a kiss on her temple and stayed where he was, watching her sleep._


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Sorry about the wait... It's a very short one, I know. Chapter 10 will come before the weekend.**

* * *

Chapter 9

I had a strange dream last night. In my dream, I am twelve again and I'm playing with that blond boy whose name I still can't remember.

I don't know what the game is exactly. I am seated on a branch in a tree, as he charges at imaginary enemies with a small wooden sword. When he tires of fidgeting around, he calls me down, claiming he had delivered me from the formidable Dragon. My child self storms out; I'm bored and the game is stupid, I declare. He has all the fun running around and fighting while I sit in that tree.

I say I want to fight too. The boy laughs at me and answers girls don't fight, only boys can be knights. In my dream, I pull out my tongue to him and I leave him alone to his game. I feel his eyes on me as I walk away, but when I turn around at the entrance of the castle, he is no longer looking at me; he is playing by himself again, thrusting his stick at the trunk and yelling war cries.

Those pieces of my past I dream about are unsettling but they don't bother me anymore. I've found a pleasant life here. I live in a nice big house, with sufficient goods for my needs. I have Helen. And now I have Lancelot.

Lancelot has offered his services as a guard and handyman, and he accepted to stay at the manor with me. I'm glad. It's agreeable to have another companion beside Helen, someone to talk to at breakfast and dinner. Helen is glad, too. I'm trying to ignore her not so subtle winks but sometimes I fail and I found myself glancing toward the strong figure of my new friend and I feel my cheeks warming.

We are preparing for winter already. We are making sure the pantry is full; we verify the stocks of oil and wax, or day-to-day goods. Lancelot is taking care of the wood-storage. Helen and I visit all spare rooms in the manor to check on possible roof-leaks and inspect the windows to ensure they are properly sealed.

I offered Helen to stay with us for winter, but she declined. She's still uneasy while at the manor. She does not tell, but I know she hates the place…

"Three is a crowd," she says, "lovebirds need to be left alone."

At least Helen does not tease me in front of Lancelot. I'd be so embarrassed!

Lancelot put his axe down and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. He picked up the chopped wood and headed back to the house. Morgana smiled softly at him when he entered the storage room with his load. He smiled back and her eyes sparkled, then suddenly she blushed and stared away quickly.

He started piling the logs and felt her gaze returning to him when she was sure he was not looking. Lancelot respected Arthur too much to resent him, but to have his lady Morgana smitten over him was nice, really nice.

Morgana - Ana, as she insisted to be called, was nothing like the haughty lady he remembered. She helped with every chore, laughing at her own clumsiness. She was lovely and caring. She had a sweet smile and she spoke quietly, almost frightened to stir the air around her if she laughed too loudly. She really was adorable. She reminded him of Gwen.

He finished with the wood and straightened up, casting a quick glance outside. Helen was busy with freshly washed sheets she was putting to dry in the pale sun.

"Do you want some water?"

Lancelot turned to Morgana. She was offering a goblet.

"Thank you."

He drained the cup, grateful, then handed it back for more. She had such a gentle smile on her, he couldn't resist. Lancelot cupped her chin and pressed a kiss on her cheek. He felt her tremble under his touch. Her skin was soft, and warm. He took the cup off her hand, before pulling her face up to his for another kiss.

I don't know if I've been kissed before. I like it. Lancelot presses his lips to mine and the feeling is very pleasant. I'm curious of the sensation the caress is rousing in me: a tingling under my skin, warmth spreading through my veins. He brought me closer so I lean on him. His mouth is moving over my lips; it's more insistent now. I'm a little breathless. I'm uncomfortable with his trying to part my lips. I let him. He plays with the sensitive skin of my bottom lip and I have to grip his shirt when suddenly the tip of his tongue brushes mine. I want to feel the heat again and I open my mouth for him. Maybe I've been kissed before. I don't care to remember. Kissing Lancelot is probably better.

Maybe she was inexperienced, or she had forgotten about kisses. She froze a little when he deepened the kiss, and then let herself melt in the caress. Lancelot explored her mouth, surprised to be drawn onto her so easily. The light embrace he intended was evolving into something else, deeper and arousing.

He eased his hold slowly and she pushed away gently. Lancelot half expected her to blush furiously. She didn't. An enchanting smile bloomed on her swollen lips. The sparks in her eyes were mesmerizing. He caressed her cheek one last time before walking back to his tasks.

The Lady Morgana was not what he expected her to be. Passion ran just under the surface of her perfect image, waiting the slightest touch to burst into flames. The Lady Morgana was nothing like Gwen; nothing at all.

* * *

**So? What do you think?**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

_She entered his room without knocking, as always. He was gathering a couple of things, throwing them in the __open__ chest by his bed, his way of cleaning. He gave an apologetic gesture to the disorderliness when she looked around._

"_Sorry about that. Merlin is rather… occupied."_

"_Poor Merlin. He offered his life to save Gwen's. I certainly can't imagine any man loving me so much."_

* * *

Arthur shot up in his bed.

"Morgana!"

Merlin raised his head, unfolding slowly from his crouched position against the wall.

"Arthur? Did it work? Did you see her?"

The prince rubbed both hands over his face taking deep breaths. He lowered himself to the floor to sit facing Merlin.

"Yes, it worked, I guess. She was sleeping again. She had a fever, but it broke."

"Did you see where she is?"

"No. Maybe some manor - her bedroom was rather spacious."

Arthur leaned back against the bed, closing his eyes. He'd been so busy indulging in the sight of her, he didn't check through the windows for pointers of her location. Idiot. Merlin stretched and gave a slight push to his friend leg.

"We'll find her. Don't worry."

"I'm not worried."

Merlin nodded knowingly. Arthur growled. Merlin was beginning to know him a little too well. Merlin spoke again.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Arthur opened one eye, then the other, to narrow his stare on the servant in front of him.

"Talk about what, Merlin?"

" '_I dream of my heart.' _"

Arthur pushed himself up onto his bed again. He was not ready to talk about _that._ He was not quite sure what _that_ mean anyway.

"Find Morgause and tell her, her sister is fine."

Arthur moved to rest on his side, dismissing Merlin at the same time. His elbow covered his eyes to shield him from the morning light. Morgana's image was dancing behind his eyelids. She had her arms wrapped around her waist in despair. She was clutching a small boy to her in an attempt to protect him. She was kneeling in a church at his father's wedding. She was helping him with his armour. She was sleeping in a foreign bed, so far away from him he could not bear it. He dozed off again.

* * *

_Her crystalline laugh drew his attention through the open door. Morgana was pirouetting in the middle of the room, clutching a deep purple dress to her slender form. Suddenly, she stopped and held the gown at arm length. She studied it carefully with that concentrated look he knew so well, a little pout on her lips; the same one she had when she was undecided about something. It never lasted, she was always so prompt to make her mind. _

_A pang of longing exploded in his chest. She looked so adorable in her white shift. Her hairs were undone and a sheepish smile curled her lovely mouth. _

_She was so slim. She had lost some weight. Her hands looked almost fragile; he could see the thin lines of her veins on her throat._

_The longing changed into something darker, anger or guilt, when her arms trembled in the effort of bringing the heavy velvet over her head. Anger melted into desire again when Morgana smoothed the fabric over her hips and her stomach. She pirouetted again and arranged the flowing cloth over her underskirt. She murmured:_

"_I hope he'll like it."_

* * *

Arthur woke up again. He was alone. He straightened up. It was a dream, just another dream. Or was it a souvenir? Or was it her new reality? Who was the man she was dressing up for? A friend? A suitor? A lover?

He breathed deeply to calm his pounding heart. Had she ever prepare like that for him? Hoping he liked her attire, waiting for a compliment or at least the acknowledgment of the effort she made? He never told her how ravishing her beauty was, whatever her outfit. She stole his breath away every time he laid his eyes on her. He should have told her. He wished he was granted another chance.

The ship's movement was smooth. Arthur got up and gathered his sword and his cloak, joining the company on the deck. They were entering a small port. Merlin was talking to the captain. Morgause was nowhere to be seen. He nodded to the two men and leaned on the balustrade.

"Here you are. Whitehaven, land of myths and sheep…" the Irish man laughed at his own joke.

Merlin stared blankly at him; Arthur poked him in the ribs. The following grunt could hardly pass for a laugh. The captain didn't notice.

"We'll reach the docks in about one hour. I recommend the _Golden Ram_ in the upper-town. They have the best ale in the area."

"Thank you Captain," Arthur slipped a coin in his hand-check, in appreciation for the tip. The gesture had the effect he was hoping for.

"You'll want to talk to Helen Shalot for the best stories on the area. She knows a lot, Helen, she does."

Arthur nodded and absorbed himself in the scene in front of them. The upcoming port was just a couple of barracks in worn out planks. On either side of the village, the shore was a sandy flat. The ground was rising gently until it reached a high rocky cliff of grey limestone. The road was lacing up the cliff to disappear at the top. He shadowed his eyes with one hand and made out vague shapes afar: the upper town.

Merlin tumbled when he walked on the ground again. He nearly fell on his knees to kiss the unmoving dirty surface. As far as he was concerned, the return could take more than a week on horseback; he didn't care.

Arthur was checking on his white mare when Morgause called him, "Arthur."

The woman looked tired; her night might have been restless. But despite her hollow stare, she was impeccable and as secretive as ever. He barked a reply with an impatient "What?"

"We need to find the dragon. If we find the Great Dragon, we'll find Morgana."

Arthur's grabbed the knob of his saddle and climbed on his horse effortlessly. He forced his fingers to relax and arranged his gloves before grabbing the bridle. Merlin knew the gesture for what it was: his shortening patience.

"Unless you have some information you're willing to share, we are going to talk to this Helen, and ask about Morgana. Merlin!"


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N : Hello everyone... Sorry for the long wait. My beta let me down. After struggling for a while I decided to post the rest of the fic anyway. So I apologize for the typo, grammar, and so on. I did my best to correct it. And just because you like to suffer, I give you two chapters at once!**

* * *

Chapter 11

As much as I enjoy Lancelot's kisses, I'm not ready to give him more than that. He wants more. I can tell by the way his eyes darken when he stares at me moving around, or by the soft brush of his fingers on my throat when he pulls away. But he does not insist and I love him more for it.

He is the perfect companion: gentle, considerate and entertaining. He traveled a lot and he knows how to turn his adventures into endless laughs or captivating stories. Sometimes, names escape him; Merlin. Arthur. Or Gwen.

He quickly changes the subject when it happens. But I know. He loved that Gwen. I don't want to be jealous. I am; a little. Lancelot is sad when her name comes up. I won't ask what happened. Did she let him go or did she send him away? I don't care. He is with me now; her loss is my win.

Maybe I'll welcome him to my bed soon. If his talents there are anything like his kisses, I will like it greatly. And maybe his laying next to me will ease my nights. Lancelot makes everything so simple. It's not that I don't sleep. I do sleep. I just don't sleep well. My sheets are damped with sweat every morning, and I am still tired with my stomach twisted in nods when I get up. I don't think I have nightmares. I just remember heat and my body arched when I wake up.

Helen thinks maybe I am having some kind of flu. She gave me some tea, draughts and potions. I don't like taking remedies. It makes me feel helpless. Tea is okay. Hers tastes of linden and chamomile. It does not help except with the cramps.

But I'm fine; really. We work on the house in the morning, or we take a walk by the shore when the weather is fair. I take a short nap in the afternoon while Lancelot trains. In the evening, he talks about his exploits in the south, or we read.

We found chests full of books while we were inspecting the attic. That's when Lancelot confessed he can't read. So I'm teaching him. Every night, after diner, we spend one hour or two deciphering letters and words. We chose one book from the chests. It talks about a man who spent ten years at war, and then ten other years at sea, because he angered his gods. His wife waited for him all this time. I like the story; a love that patient and strong is a beautiful thing. Lancelot claims he like the story too, but I suspect he prefers the battle scenes and the monsters. We enjoy our lessons very much. Sometimes, we even manage to go through an entire page before he moves closer and kisses me.

Lancelot glanced at the lovely woman seated next to him at the table. They had cleared the remains of their diner and took in additional oil lamps for their reading. Morgana was going through one page before he started on it, so she could get a general idea of the part if he fumbled too much on one sentence. She had a serious look on her face while she concentrated on the task at hand; he delicate eyebrows were slightly frown and her mouth was set on an adorable little pout.

He pushed away a strand of hair from her face and she smiled at him before turning her attention to her book again. The last chapter was a boring talk about people eating flowers and forgetting every idea of return because of it. The irony didn't escape him. Morgana still didn't show any recollection of her past.

Sometimes, he tried, and mentioned their friends' name. But she didn't react, except a flash of annoyance in her clear gaze when he spoke of Gwen. Morgana's jealousy was flattering. And, Lancelot had to admit, it was justified. He still loved Gwen. Too often, her heart-shaped face came over the feline image of Morgana's. When he looked into the luminous green eyes, they often darkened into a hot-black loving stare. Lancelot held a lady in his arms, and dreamed of kissing her servant.

Morgana looked up to him and smiled, brining her back to reality.

"You're going to love this part. It talks about a single-eye giant and Odysseus' plot to escape him."

He nodded, and began reading painfully about the sick-low-pea.

It's not late in the evening, and I'm already battling against lassitude. My head is heavy; I fight to keep my eyes open. The headache is growing; it hurts.

Lancelot is concerned. His seducing moves are gone now, he is worried about me. I lie, claiming I am fine. He does not believe me. I am not very good at concealing my feelings. He touches my face; the gesture is tender. I rest my cheek in his hand, eyes closed and for an instant, there is a metallic scent around me, something salty and earthy at the same time. I feel better. I know this scent, but it is not Lancelot's.

"You're tired; please allow me to escort you to your chambers for rest, My Lady Morgana."

I do not correct him. When he acts like the knight is he, the title just escapes him. I am not that well now. My hands are cold but I feel pearls of sweat in my back. I let Lancelot help me back to my room. I ask him to open the window. The sea gives me strength. I'll dream of its color and its scent will comfort me. I want to smell the sea while I rest.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

_He was preparing for the fight. The servant took an eternity to secure the chain-mail and the shoulder protection. What could take him so long? The gauntlets were just behind on the table! _

_Arthur felt something in his back. A subtle scent of roses invaded the space. Morgana…_

"_Please, let me… I used to help my father before he fought…"_

_Her voice was soft, free of the usual mockery she was using with him. He turned his head slightly, to watch her adjust the cloak on his back and the remaining strings. She worked swiftly. When she picked up his helmet, Arthur took a step forward. Her eyes were so clear… _

* * *

The upper town was farer than they first assessed. They climbed the narrow path up the cliff and choose a steady trot on the road ahead. The surroundings had the faded colors of late fall. It was damp with too much rain and misty. A forest they hadn't seen from the docks appeared on their left.

The dense bush prevented Arthur to see through the grey naked trees. The sad landscape matched his mood. This kind of weather was Morgana's favourite. He hated it. The gloomy light was undermining his energy and made him feel oppressed. Arthur kicked the white mare impatiently and distanced himself from their little group. Humidity gave him the impression to fight for every breath. He slowed his pace again and let his companions join him.

"Thank you."

Morgause's low words turned his attention to her. Arthur dismissed her appreciation with a brusque wave of his hand.

"It's very frustrating you know."

Apparently, she finally decided to talk. The prince stared at her silently.

"I've seen her all my life, whenever I wanted and now I can't. But _you_ do. You never cared, and yet you're still able to reach her."

Arthur didn't smirk. He never _showed _he cared, but he did care. He always did. He stayed quiet. There was more that the jealous spit in her voice. He knew the feeling. The subtle mix of helplessness and bitterness was too familiar. His absence of reaction cut short the tentative conversation. Morgause straightened up a little more on her saddle, and closed up again.

The village finally appeared at the next turn of the road.

They found the tavern rather easily. It was a two-storey building with small windows. The sign-post was squealing in the chilly wind. It wore a golden splash picturing a ram's head; or so called the title beneath the spat.

Merlin stepped inside first. All heads turned toward them, then conservation resumed. A strong woman with ginger hair twisted in a bun and a white apron invited them in.

"Welcome. I am Mistress Marion. Please this way."

"Madam."

Arthur's polite reply and gracious nod earned him an appreciative smile. The woman escorted them to a table and called a waitress for wine and food. Then she bowed and excused herself.

The tavern was a typical one on the seashore: Low ceiling, dark wood furniture, prize and nets on the walls. Merlin spotted faded white and red circles near the bar with scars looking very much like knives marks. Some men caught him looking and he turned his attention back to his cup. It was fine pottery, not the crude tin cups he expected. He sipped the beverage. The ale was good too. Sometimes, travelling with Arthur had its perks.

"Merlin, you're going to the stables."

And some things never changed…

"But the lads will take care of…"

Arthur glared impatiently.

"Exactly, Merlin. Talk to them. Or rather, make them talk. Servants love gossiping, don't they?"

"As if Nobles didn't…" Merlin muttered. Arthur knitted his browns. Merlin got up.

"Fine. I'm going."

"In the meantime, Morgause and I will look for this Helen."

Merlin stopped his retreat and stared at his prince. Suspicion was painted on his face. The blond woman smirked.

"You don't trust me with the well-being of your master, Sorcerer?"

Merlin grunted his teeth. She was insulting him on purpose, insisting on his abilities, and his position as a servant. They challenged each other in a hostile silence. Merlin could feel her power running just below the surface. It was tingling on his own skin like dozen of ice stings, calling to the magic within him. She was powerful. Something stirred in his stomach, the usual shiver started to heat his blood. Morgause's dark eyes narrowed suddenly. She was feeling the connexion too.

Arthur put his cup back on the table loud enough to bring both their attention to him. Merlin took a deep breath, and left with a short bow. Morgause watched his retreat with an undefined expression.

"You mess with Merlin, you mess with me. Do I make myself clear, Morgause?"

The witch turned to Arthur, icy.

"I can crash you into some spineless puppet before you know it."

"Do it. But I won't be of any help afterward."

She smiled her savage smile of hers.

"You're brave, Arthur. Thus the line is thin between bravery and foolishness."

Anger paled his eyes to silver. Arthur did an immense effort to bridle his temper and hold the nasty retort coming. Morgause had still some part to play in his quest for Morgana. He settled back to sarcasm.

"If you're done with flattery, maybe I can interest you into a walk?"

Her carnal smile widened; his insides cooled uncomfortably. But Morgause simply bent her head gracefully and stood. Maybe having Merlin around was not such a bad idea, after all.

The upper town was apparently richer than the fishermen village, but not by much. Save for the taverns and one or two shops, most of the buildings were one-storey structures. The wood of the faces was bleached by the salty sea air and looked old. Some of the houses showed the efforts of their owners to cheer up the depressing effect with flowers or brassy curtains.

They were reaching the last house of the little town when Merlin joined them. He pointed to the opposite direction.

"Joseph, that's the handyman, said that Mistress Shalot lives that way. He said she might be at the manor though because –he squealed excitingly- she helps the lady there. He said she, the lady, is not from the area. He said she's weird but she's a looker."

Arthur frowned. Merlin blushed, trying to catch his breath from the run and the long tirade.

"Sorry."

Morgause hadn't flinch. Maybe Arthur just imagined the light shiver of her hand when she grasped her long cloak as she turned around. Both men followed in hast.

On this side of the village, the housing was more spaced. Patch of vegetation between the buildings could nearly pass for tended gardens. Arthur regretted they didn't stop at the tavern to ask for direction to this Helen's. The surroundings were extremely calm, too calm. They had not met one person outside. No kids; no dogs; no one.

Some vague feeling spiked the hair in his neck. Arthur's hand automatically found the guard of his sword. The warrior began studying the access to their current position. The road they had just walked by was wide, without possibility of an ambush. Now it was narrowing in front of them to turn toward the cliff. The copse of trees nearly could mask brigands. His heart was pounding; apprehension was attacking him again, down to his stomach.

Arthur glimpsed at his companions. There were looking around curiously. What had Morgause said about bravery and foolishness? Arthur took one step forward, and another. Then he saw her.

She was walking to him, a tall dark-haired man stalking her side. She was wearing that velvet dress he dreamt about. Arthur flinched. She was laughing. The musical sound washed over him like a cascade of shattered glass. She was here. She was safe. She was smiling.

"Morgana…"

Behind him, Merlin grunted.

"Please, not her too…"

* * *

**A/N : So... Arthur found Morgana... What is to happen next?**


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

I feel better this morning, really. Lancelot insists I am even paler than before, so I accept to go to Helen. I give in only because he looks so worried. Maybe my head is a little heavy, but it's not that difficult to move, I swear. I chat and I entertain him on the way, to reassure him. If I am using his arm, it's only because the soil is a little slippery from the rain we had the last days, that's all. Having him close is just an additional benefit. I don't need his strength to keep me steady. I am fine.

If I know him the slightest, he is not fooled by my bravado. His acts echo mine though, yet his grip on me is a little hard and he takes care of not walking too quickly so I don't tire.

It's a nice walk down to Helen's house and it's a beautiful day. The sea on our right is sweeping the sand gently. Even the sound of the waves is soft. Yesterday angry weather ripped some algae from the seafloor and the blue waters turn a little green from it. The color is wonderful, it reminds me of… I don't know what memory the color brings back. But I am fine.

We are nearly there now; I can make out the cables of the house through the little copse. Suddenly, Lancelot tensed and his hand moved to his side. I forget sometimes he is trained to observe and to feel his surroundings. He is a knight after all. But there's nothing here. No one takes this path but us or Helen. The path leads only to the manor and the villagers keep away from me.

It must be some of Lancelot's sudden discomfort that is wearing on me. I feel a knot in my throat, and swallowing is difficult. Lancelot comes to a halt abruptly and I fear my knees give in under me without his support. I grip his hand for balance. There are three persons on the road in front of us: one blond woman and two men. One of them has a sword and he too is in alert. Who are they? Who is _he_? He turns as if to say something to his companions but he is the only one to move forward. He has just spotted us.

He is still far away, but I hear his mumble. He calls my name. He knows me. I don't know him. I am not afraid, but I clutch Lancelot's hand nonetheless. I am cold. I need to feel his warm. What does the other man mean, when he says "Not her too"? The woman didn't say anything. I don't recognize her either. She has a feral air on her I don't like.

The strange trio is approaching us quickly. Suddenly there are only feet from us, and Lancelot let go of my hand to fell on one knee. He knows those strangers; he knows this man.

"My Lord Prince."

Prince? I am curious, all apprehension gone now. But I have to respect etiquette, before I can study the Prince. So I take my skirt between my fingers delicately, and I bow my head slightly.

The movement reminds me I am not that strong on my feet. I feel so light-headed. I hope I won't faint. I have to wait for him to invite me to stand, as etiquette demands. How do I know about etiquette requirements?

"You never bent before me, Morgana, don't start now."

That voice.

"Lancelot, on your feet."

I recognize this voice. It wakes up something deep inside me; something agreeable, like... I don't know. I wish he speaks again. There is something there, a missing piece of myself I would like so much to have back. Maybe, if he speaks some more, I will remember.

One gloved hand helps me up, his. Finally I am allowed to look at the prince standing before me. His face is as familiar as his voice, but I can not name him... His eyes are the color of the sea, this special blue hanging between cobalt and stormy grey. I remember his eyes. These eyes are searching my face now. I read anxiety and joy and confusion in them. The light shining in his stare fades slowly. The hand which was holding mine tightly frees it to fell immobile by his side. I don't acknowledge him as a long-time friend, and it pains him. I can see that. It pains me too.

He smiles, nearly a smirk, really, and he bows.

"My Lady Morgana. I'm glad to find you well."

His voice is colder than before and mocking. It hurts. I straighten up and I nod to the courtesy. Lancelot moves to stand between us. He seems nervous. I put my hand on his arm gently to reassure him. I have nothing to fear from the Prince. I take one step forward. The prince is so taller than me; he is nearly as tall as Lancelot. I have to glance up to see his face.

"I feel I know you. I don't remember your name, but I do know you."

Light glitters in his eyes again. He makes no gesture toward me this time. He simply glances away to his companions.

The woman looks sad. Her ferocious expression is gone now. Her big brown eyes seem on the verge of crying. I didn't notice earlier how beautiful she is.

The other man skips and fists his hands to no end. He is so jittery it makes me smile. He looks friendly. His bouncing seems to annoy the prince, but before he can calm him down, Lancelot speaks.

"Prince Arthur, the Lady Morgana was feeling poorly these past days, may I suggest we allow her some rest?"


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Thank you for your patience... Took a while to decide if I kept the two endings or not, which had an impact on that one. :)**

* * *

Chapter 14

_He escorted her back to her chambers after the feast his father insisted on giving for her recovery. Arthur walked one step behind her, ready to help her if she needed to. She refused proudly to take his arm, even when she trembled in the effort while climbing up the stairs. _

"_Can I bring you anything?"_

_She looked up to him with a thankful smile, but shook her head graciously. _

"_No. Thank you, Arthur."_

"_Sweet dreams, Morgana."_

* * *

Helen closed the small door of the bedroom. Morgana had finally accepted to lie down a moment. The blond woman, who had presented herself as Morgause of Gorlois, was following each of her movements with a sharp look. One of the men, Merlin, was seated at the end of the bench, and played with his fingers nervously on the table. The two knights were facing each other. The silence was heavy, each one of them waiting for her diagnosis.

She turned to Lancelot, "Has her fever worsened these past nights?"

Lancelot blushed furiously and peeked at the other man in front of him. Helen noticed that except for the constant flexing of his hands, Prince Arthur stayed perfectly still. Even his face lacked to show any emotion.

"I had to escort her to her chambers yesterday evening, but she claimed she was fine when she joined me this morning for breakfast. She didn't want to come here, I had to insist. I supported her almost all the way."

Helen glanced at the door and approached the table.

"I'm worried, Lancelot. My herbs are not effective. She needs a physician."

His face gloomy, Lancelot nodded. He opened his mouth to address Arthur, but Morgause silenced him abruptly.

"The spell is killing her."

"Explain."

The sharp command was the first word Arthur spoke since his _'courtesy'_ to Morgana outside. Merlin glanced at him. Arthur had stood up. He was staring at the door, as if he could check on the lady through the thick panel. Morgause hesitated, maybe to mark her reluctance to obey.

"Morgause," his patience was shortening, adding threat to the previous irritation.

"To work properly, the spell needs to destroy her magic. But she _is_ magic. She's a seer, Arthur. The Sight is one step farther than being a witch. And she is so powerful… The charm is consuming her from the inside."

There were tears in her voice when Morgause repeated, "It's killing her."

"What spell? What are you talking about?" Lancelot asked, completely stunned.

The blond sorceress sneered "Did you think she lost her memory while banging her head?"

Lancelot snorted.

"How would I know? I found her here alone. Ana didn't even remember her name!"

"I forbid you to call her that."

The command struck the air, icy and as hard as steel. Merlin had heard Arthur use this tone only once before. Even his father had not dared disobey at the time. Lancelot narrowed his eyes on the man facing him. But after a second he lowered his stare.

"Yes, Sire. I apologize for my irreverence. Except for her lack of souvenirs, the _Lady Morgana_, "he made a point to emphasise her title, "seemed well and happy with her life when I came to pay my respects. She offered me a position at the manor, and I accepted. I thought it was the best way to look after her until her memory returns. It was a couple of days ago."

Arthur nodded. Lancelot looked away. Merlin remembered he was holding hands with Morgana on their way down. Given Arthur's short temper with a man he respected otherwise, he probably had noticed too. Those two really had a knack to fall for the same women…

Arthur turned again to Morgause, who was standing up.

"Sit down. You still have some explanations to give."

Morgause stayed on her feet.

"I said, sit."

That tone again. Merlin wondered when Arthur had learned to act like the future king he was. He smiled then caught himself. About time.

Morgause obeyed slowly.

"Thank you. So Morgana asked the Dragon to vanquish her memory forever. Is that it?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"You'll have to ask her."

"Very funny."

Morgause held the silver stare fixed on her, stood and approached the closed door. Her own temper was rising. Merlin felt his skin tingled again when her magic grew inside her. He wanted to warn Arthur, but the prince pushed his hand away impatiently.

"Why did Morgana want her memory erased?"

"She didn't say, Arthur. When I asked, she told me she had her reasons. Maybe she didn't want me to try to convince her not to do it. Honestly, I don't know."

"Take a guess."

Morgause sighed. The tingling around Merlin decreased, but didn't disappear completely. She was taking courage into her magic he realized. Morgause was afraid.

"Maybe she had regrets. Maybe she foresaw what her future actions will do to the world and to you. Maybe she wanted to forget what she saw."

Suddenly, the witch was not afraid anymore. Her dark eyes glimmered like onyx. She walked to Arthur, furious. Merlin and Lancelot stood up. The prince didn't flinch and faced her anger.

"This is your fault! Yours and your hateful father's. He killed our mother. He destroyed our family. He launched a campaign against Magic because of that stupid pact he made to have an heir with a barren woman! And now my sister is dying because of you!"

"I'm sorry, Morgause."

The sincerity in Arthur's tone calmed her instantly.

"I will do my best to correct the mistakes of my father in my own time. Tell me how to break the spell."

"Only the Dragon can do that."

A noise from the adjacent room silenced them. Helen, who had listened to the whole exchange without even a gasp of surprise, opened the door quickly. Morgana was straightening on the small bed. Lancelot made a step toward the room; Arthur stopped him.

"Merlin, go check on her. Gaius has taught you some of his science, I believe."

"He is not going anywhere near my sister. He tried to…"

"Merlin."

"Yes, Sire."

Merlin followed Helen inside the little room. God, what a mess.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N : my muses need the review...**

* * *

Chapter 15

The shouting in the next room wakes me. I didn't even realize I fell asleep. The bed is not familiar. It is small, and hard. Helen's… I was coming to see Helen with Lancelot when we met with those strangers. They claimed they know me… I have a sister! And Arthur… Prince Arthur is the blond I sometimes dream about. We have childhood memories together… He used to call me Ana… How come I remember Arthur so well and I don't remember anything about my sister?

The poor bed squeals when I straighten up. Less than a minute later, Helen is opening the door. I vaguely see all of them in the living room. Lancelot smiles at me gently. I wish he'd come to see me. He does not. The Prince and Morgause are standing in front of each other. I think it is their arguing that awoke me. Helen comes in with the third man.

"Morgana, how are you feeling?"

Even Helen calls me by my full name now. I will never be Ana again… I feel like rebelling. I don't.

"My head hurts a little. But I am fine!..."

The man with her approaches the bed. He is gawky. His smile is so timid, it's sweet.

"My Lady? I'm Merlin… I think you don't remember me."

I shake my head. His voice is so tranquil. I like him.

"Merlin? No, no I'm sorry… Are you the friend Lancelot told me about?"

His smile widens. He is handsome when he smiles.

"Yes, yes that's me. I am studying with Gaius; Gaius is the court physician. Do you mind if I…"

He is blushing. I really like him. I invite him to sit near me. He looks relieved. He circles my wrist with his fingers. His hold is gentle, but it scares me suddenly. He doesn't let go. I wish he'd let me go!

Helen interrupts our silent contest. She pushes Merlin away so she can help unlacing my corsage. My cheeks feel so hot I am sure tomatoes would be proud of their crimson.

Merlin is just as ill-at-ease as I am. He listens to my heart and my breathing, he touches my forehead to check my temperature. One moment, his face is so close to mine I think I would feel his breath on my cheek if only he dares breathing. I am not afraid anymore. I am just tired. Can we just finish with it?

"You never did that before, did you Merlin?" I ask.

"No," he is blushing again. "Gaius says I'm useless as an assistant. But Arthur ordered me to check so…"

He is grinning with mischief. It is easy to return the smile. I am sure we were good friends. But his grin vanished quickly.

"You have a strong fever, My Lady, this I can tell. We have to bring you back to your home so you can rest properly."

I pull a face. I don't want to be treated like a porcelain doll.

"Can you ask my sister to come here? I would like to meet her…"

I know _'meet'_ is not the right word to use. But I don't remember her, so it seems appropriate anyway. Merlin is embarrassed; he is nodding again and he casts unsure glances outside the room.

"I don't think Arthur..."

"I don't need his permission, she's my sister! Please Merlin…"

He won't resist my begging. He is not. He sighs heavily and joins the company waiting. Helen helps me back with my dress. I let her when she eases me back on the pillow. The short conversation exhausted me. Maybe all those emotions are bothering me.

Morgause enters the small room, with the prince on her heels. Merlin was right. He won't let her alone with me for a second. Does he fear I am to disappear with her?… This is ridiculous.

She approaches the bed. She really is beautiful. I envy her blond hair; her dark eyes are so expressive. I am raven-haired and my eyes are a vivid green. We do not look like sisters at all.

"Morgana, how are you feeling?"

Morgause speaks softly, like one does with very ill persons. I am not that fragile! I hope my voice is firm when we talk. Arthur is leaning against the wall near the door. His eyes are fixed on the back of her head, but I feel his stare flitting to me from time to time. Glimpses, merely, as if he could not stand to look at me for too long. Morgause takes my hand. Contrary to Merlin's, her skin is cold and the feeling is rather disagreeable. I pull back. She is telling me she is happy and relieved to see me. She is lying. She is worried.

"I'm sorry. I wish I remember."

It is the right thing to say. It calms her. She leaves me. I move to stand up. I can't stay here. I want to go home. I tumble on my feet, but I resist the vertigo. I stood too quickly, that is all. I am cold. I wait for the room to stop spinning before I turn to the door.

One strong arm steadies me. Arthur didn't left the room with Morgause. I am forced to sit down again. He retreats to the door as soon as he is sure I am secured. I hate being weak. I don't want him to see me weak. Where is Lancelot?

"Merlin!"

He tells his servant to go fetch their horses at the tavern. They are to accompany us back to the manor. I hold my hand toward him.

"Surely you will accept my hospitality, My Lord?"

The title seems to surprise him. He is hesitating. I don't understand. I thought I put it properly. Wasn't it the right thing to do, to invite them to stay with me? Didn't his father welcome me at his court? Finally Arthur bows his head gracefully.

"Thank you, My Lady. I accept with pleasure."

This ceremonious tone does not suit him.

He has taken my offered hand and the other. His skin is so warm. I need more of his strength. Does he sense it? His eyes are searching mine again.

"Merlin will be here soon. Lie down in the meantime. Please Morgana, for me?"

It is easy to obey when he talks softly like that. My head hurts so much. I will close my eyes only for an instant. I am so tired.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

* * *

_She bowed to him when he offered his arm. He loved the smile that brightened her eyes when she looked up. _

"_My Lady…"_

_She was the most gracious lady, when she wanted to._

"_My Champion…"_

* * *

Arthur motioned to Lancelot to climb behind Morgana. She trusted the once nearly knighted man. If having him riding with her could get them to her place more quickly then so be it. She was so weak… Her usually pale skin was whiter than ever. Her vulnerable stare when she looked at him in that room was still gnawing at him. She had always been so strong! He used to rely on her to steady him… Having her soft-spoken and compliant was not something he was at ease with, even if he had wished for it many times. _Be careful with what you wish for, you might just get it._

Arthur ignored the lovely picture she made - curled into Lancelot's welcoming arms - and mounted with Merlin. Lancelot had stolen Guinevere's heart, and now, he had Morgana's as well. He didn't feel jealous. Just lonely.

Merlin turned on the saddle.

"Do you think Morgause is right? About the spell killing her?"

"Yes."

Arthur didn't manage to keep the sadness out of his tone.

"Do you think she knew? What the spell was going to do to her? Do you think she really wanted to forget everything and die?"

He shook his head, perhaps partly because he didn't want to know. The manor appeared at a turn on the road. The questioning stopped, which suited Arthur just fine. He had no answers. He was not sure he was ready to find them.

They dismounted as soon as they reached the house. Lancelot helped Morgana down her horse. She lost her balance as soon as she tried to stand. She barely protested when her protector lifted her off her feet, resting her head on his shoulder but failing to circle his neck for stability.

Arthur grabbed Merlin's by his collar, stopping him when he followed their friends.

"Call the Dragon and command him to lift that spell."

"I can not…"

"Are you a Dragonlord or not? Do it."

"Arthur, I don't know how…"

"She is going to die!"

The horse whinnied and danced nervously at the outburst. Arthur stroked its nose to calm it. Caressing the beautiful animal steadied him, too.

Merlin hesitated.

"You are the only one who can help her. Merlin, you have to call him..."

"The Dragon… He talked to me in Camelot. He told me that a prophecy claim Morgana will join Mordred and try to destroy..."

"She won't. I know she will never do anything against me."

Merlin thought about her plots with Tauren and Alvarr. What if she had agreed to help Morgause when the fires of Idirsholas lit? She didn't remember he tried to poison her now, but if the Dragon lifted the spell…

"Arthur…"

The prince stopped his pats on his horse and stared at him.

"I can order you to do it. But I am asking, as a friend. Merlin, it hurts too much to see her like this and do nothing. Please."

"I can't be sure of his answer. He might not even be nearby."

"No, he's here."

Both men turned and found Helen standing near them. She continued, "The beast is lurking in a grotto, below the manor. I hear him mumble sometimes. There's a passage in the manor. I'll show you."

Gratitude softened Arthur's fiery expression. Helen walked up to him. Her examination was unsettling. When she reached for his face, Arthur jerked a little. The strange woman said nothing, but her hand was warm on his cheek. He wondered if Merlin felt the same comfort, when his mother was hugging him. Helen's smile washed away some of the pain and strengthened him.

"Thank you. Let's go, Merlin."

Helen showed them to a small door in the deepest caves of the manor, one she had conscientiously hidden from Morgana during their winter-preparations. The door opened to a tunnel, steeply sloped into the darkness. Arthur picked up a torch and lit another one for Merlin. From time to time, they could smell gushes of salty wind. The tunnel went on for several hundred meters before opening into an enormous cave, its size comparable to the one below Camelot. But they had sand below their feet and a stretch of water in front of them.

Arthur planted his torch in the sand and looked around. The flames were reflecting off the water, but not nearly enough to light the huge space. The wind was permanent here, caused the fire to dance, casting moving shadows everywhere.

The prince turned to Merlin, who sighed, "Very well… But don't blame it on me later."

"Merlin..."

'_Dragon Somun Lokai!'_

The yell echoed into the empty space. Arthur was about to tell Merlin to call again when the wind worsened. Now the burst of air were deafening, sneering and making it difficult to breathe. Behind the assault of the wind, Merlin distinguished something else. A laugh he knew and dread. Arthur fetched his sword when what seemed to be a shadow moved toward them, getting bigger and bigger, until he had to take several steps backward to look at the Great Dragon.

The beast was still chuckling. Arthur recognized the reptilian eyes which broke the vision in the basin that first day when he was with Morgause on the hill near Camelot.

"Your sword is useless, Young Pendragon…"

The voice echoed violently across the cave. Even though he was used to the hissing, Merlin had to resist the urge to cover his ears. Arthur kept his weapon in both hands, automatically taking a defensive posture.

"So here is my unfaithful mortal friend… To what do I owe the pleasure, Merlin?"

Merlin took a step forward.

"We are here for Morgana!"

"Ah, yes, the witch who sees more than she can handle… How is she?"

The mocking question got to Arthur. His fear vanished and he yelled,"You know how she is! She is dying! I want you to lift that spell now!"

The Dragon laughed again. He approached his head to the man proudly challenging him. A glacial knot sank into Arthur's stomach. He clenched his jaw, hoping the fear was not too visible on his face. The sword in his hands was so small!

The beast snorted. The breath of the Dragon felt burning hot on his icy cold skin.

"Hm... This is interesting…"

Merlin shouted to get the Dragon's attention back to him, "What is interesting?"

Arthur pushed him out of the way.

"I don't care. Lift that spell now!"

"And what will you give me in return, Arthur Pendragon, Crown Prince of Camelot?"

The reptile's nose was only feet away from him. Arthur clutched his sword more tightly. What could that beast want from him? What could he give in return for Morgana's life? He cast his weapon away.

"Me."

The Dragon flapped its wings into the air, sending sand flying all around viciously. The movement pushed Arthur on the ground. Merlin had retreated several feet back. The Dragon laughed harder than ever.

"Ah!… You? What care do I have for you? I could kill you within the second…"

"You're lying!" Merlin walked fearlessly to the seashore, "You sent me to him! Without Arthur, there will be no Albion! It will be all for nothing! Is that what you want?"

"I have what I want, Merlin. You've set me free…"

The terrible laugh deafened them as it reverberated on the walls of the cave. His knees now trembling, Merlin took another step forward.

"Without Arthur, Magic will never come back to this land! If you kill her, a part of him will die too!"

"_I_ am not killing her, Merlin… She chose freely. The witch Morgana came to me when she saw what her irresponsible actions will do. Oh, she surprised me, asking me to erase her memory… I would not have thought she knew remorse…"

"So you grant her wish without anything in return?"

"You're so naïve Merlin… She gave something in return, she gave you a future."

"No!" Arthur was on his feet again. "You - you tricked her! Morgana would never choose to die! She's a fighter! She's…"

"What do you know about her, Young Pendragon? Did the witch come to you for help when she was afraid? Did you listen to her when she tried to protect you? Did you pay attention to her when she needed it?"

The questions nearly brought him to his knees again. He hoped he could chase the anguish out of his voice.

"I am now!"

"Yes… Yes, now you are… Now you are… And once again you walk your selfish ways against her will."

"I don't-" Arthur couldn't continue. The Dragon was right. His request was going against Morgana's choices. Choices he didn't understand. Choices he could not accept.

"Then give me time! Give me some time to convince her that this is not the solution!"

The Dragon approached again. The way its horrible head bent on one side was almost comical. He considered the man standing up to him for a moment and started with a blink, "Very well... Tomorrow before the sun sets, the witch must come here and tell me herself she's changed her mind. Otherwise, the spell will be cast again, forever."

Arthur nodded. He felt too drained to thank the Dragon and simply walked back to the tunnel. Merlin stared at him before turning to his nemesis.

"You didn't name your price."

The answer echoed in his head.

'_My price is always the same, Merlin. A future.'_

* * *

**A/N: so, what do you think?**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: sorry for the long wait! My beta is super busy, so I decided to publish without her. If too much typos, let me know...**

* * *

Chapter 17

_Gwen handed her a brass of flowers the size of his hand. _

"_Who send them?"_

"_I don't know my Lady. Maybe Arthur?"_

"_Arthur? How disappointing…"_

_Gwen giggled._

"_Who do you want them to come from?"_

"_I don't know… Tall dark stranger?"_

_Arthur resumed his walk down the corridor. Morgana didn't want flowers from him. He tried to chase the gloom the idea poured in his chest. Why should he care?_

* * *

Merlin stayed quiet on the walk back. The day has gone by while they were underground. Helen had prepared some food for them, and went home. Lancelot was dining alone in the living room when they entered. Morgause was nowhere to be seen. Merlin suspected she had disappeared, retreating to her den to mend her wounds. It should have pained him, but in fact he was glad. Looking over his shoulder all the time was not pleasant. Arthur sat slowly facing Lancelot, picking up a cup to drink. His throat was dry.

"How is she?"

Lancelot put his spoon back on the table.

"She's resting. She asked after you."

The bitterness in the other man voice brought Arthur's attention on him. Lancelot ignored the threat of the cold stare on him.

"Where were you? What did you do?"

Arthur glared, his shoulders stiffening as he straightened up. After confronting that beast just moments ago, he was not in mood to justify anything. Lancelot didn't lower his eyes. The knight had held her hand. What else?

"Who are you to question me? The Lady Morgana's health and safety is nothing of your concern."

"I'm sorry, My Lord, but it is. It became so the moment I…"

Arthur jumped on his feet, his stare narrowing in anger. Lancelot shut up instantly, and stood in turn. His hand reached for his sword nearby, out of reflex more than fear. Arthur gripped his own weapon.

"Do you think that bedding her a few times gives you any right? She's m…"

Lancelot flushed at the insult, his dark eyes burning.

"There we are, then… You have to have everything. You just can't bear she regards someone else… You don't care if she suffers while you pleased yourself with Gwen and God knows what skirt caught your royal eye. You're arrogant, and selfish…"

Arthur felt something snapped inside him. Within the next second, his blade pointed at the other man throat. He hadn't denied taking her... Lancelot didn't move. He opened his arms, challenging Arthur to push forward. He nearly did. Trembling with the restrain, the prince growled, taking one step back.

"Pick up your sword."

"Why? So we fight for a woman? Which one will be your prize this week? Gwen? Morgana?"

"Shut up and pick up your sword!"

"Arthur stop!..."

Merlin caught the lady Morgana when she fainted.

Arthur saw her stir with relief. At the same moment, Merlin entered the room with a bowl of soup and some bread. Morgana shot up in bed at the sight of him, her eyes widening in fear or anger, Arthur could not say. The effort was too much for her. Lancelot helped her back on the pillows and she thanked him with a gentle smile.

Uneasy, Arthur shifted in his chair. The movement brought Morgana's attention back to him, Merlin forgotten.

"You found me then… How?"

"Eat, Morgana, you've been very ill, you need to recover."

"Stop treating me like a child. Why is my memory intact? What did you do, Arthur?"

He didn't know where to begin. It was so hard to shake off years of patronizing. He had only one day… Arthur turned to Merlin who had retreated in a corner as far away from her as possible. Lancelot was still standing by the bed.

"Leave us."

Merlin obeyed at once. Lancelot glanced at Morgana, waiting for her dismiss. She nodded slowly. The knight took his leave with a quick bow and a light kiss on the fragile hand he was holding. Arthur's jaw clenched but he said nothing. Lancelot shot the prince a warning glance on his way out and closed the door behind him. Morgana pushed the bowl away.

"Answer my questions, Arthur."

"Will you eat if I do?"

Surprised, Morgana looked at him. He looked anxious, his arrogance gone. She nodded.

Arthur approached the chair to the bed the same way he had in his dream. She was just as lovely. Emotion washed over him and he stayed immobile for a while; Morgana sipped her soup, looking at him below her lashes. Arthur sighed. He hoped his face was calmer than his bouncing heart and forced irony into his voice. To his ears, the words sounded only miserable.

"Morgause came to me when you disappeared. She was worried you do something incredibly stupid, like asking a very dangerous creature to play with that little head of yours… So we looked for you, and here we are."

"I have my memories back. I am not supposed too. I don't want to. What did you do, Arthur?"

He noticed she used his name with every sentence. It pleased him, somehow. Maybe she missed him as much as he missed her. Arthur cut some bread for her. The soup had brought some color to her cheeks. She took a small bit tentatively. When she swallowed, her chest raised painfully at the effort. He sat on the bed and took the bread off her hand. She didn't resist. When she repeated her question, her voice was very low, merely a whisper.

"What did you do, Arthur?"

He stared back into the clear green eyes fixed on him. She'd always been so beautiful.

"You were dying. So Merlin and I went to the Dragon and asked he lifts his spell."

"No! I don't want to remember! I've seen terrible things… The horrors I will commit! Murders; treasons. I don't want... If I forget everything, it won't happen!"

Her voice cracked and she had to stop to regain some grip. Each hissing breath seemed a painful fight. Arthur whished he could console her. He had only one day…

"You will die…"

"I don't care about dying."

"Morgana, don't say that."

She turned her head, her long hair covering her face. Arthur didn't push. Morgana moved a little so he could sit more comfortably one knee brushing her ankles through the blankets. His hand automatically smoothed the fabric around her.

"Why didn't you tell me about your powers?"

Morgana looked at him again. Her mocking sneer was still the same.

"So you can report me to Uther? No thank you."

"I think you know me better than that."

She blushed. The conversation was too solemn for his taste. He missed their bickering, as much as her presence by his side. He rested backward on his elbows and grinned.

"Anyway, now I've got proof."

"Proof?"

The suspicion in her stare was too much like her old self to resist.

"Of course! A dragon erased your memory, and you still remember me. It's okay to admit it, Morgana. It's obvious you like me."

* * *

**So was it worth waiting? I'll post the next chapter soon, 1st ending the day my book will be released (October 1st), the 2nd ending after I hit best-sellers list on Amazon! Just kidding. I'll post the 2nd ending on Halloween Eve.**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: alright... A short one, before the first final on saturday... I also forgot to mention : someone asked who the title was referring to. The answer is : whoever you like. The DragonLord is of course Merlin, but you can put Arthur or Lancelot as the Knight, and Morgause or Morgana as the witch. It does not really matter. If you want MY choice, the story was originally supposed to focus more on Arthur and Morgause, it just turned out differently. But it is your choice, really :)**

* * *

Chapter 18

I am very tempted to throw something at him; a pillow or maybe the bowl.

'_It's obvious you like me.'_ Maybe I should call Lancelot back, and show this arrogant prat exactly how much I missed him? Even worse, I want to smile back; it is good to have him around again. I know I am blushing, and he has this annoying sneer on him which tells me he knows he hits a nerve. Worse of all, Arthur is right. I did remember him despite the powerful charm the Dragon summoned on me.

I try to snort, but the air jams in my lungs… Breathing is strenuous. I remember everything now; my old life in Camelot, Uther, and Arthur; I have fresh memories of a new life, with Lancelot and Helen. Lancelot is so… No wonder Gwen pinned over him, before she chooses royalty. I remember my nightmares, the visions. My cute little maid sees a crown more than a man when she looks at Arthur. She will betray him, for Lancelot. And I will betray him too… No!

"I want the spell back. Damned the consequences. Take me to the Dragon."

"Morgana…"

Pleading is not in Arthur's nature. But he _is_ pleading. He is avoiding my stare. I don't need to see his eyes to know he is troubled. He is the same Arthur, my Arthur, and yet he is different. Magic flew my veins, freezing, burning. I swallow bile. There is fire around his head, a crown of flames and blood. I am scared. I am lost. I can't breath.

Arthur takes my hand. His warmth fills me.

"Morgana?"

My voice trembles when I ask for water. He helps me drink and to lie down, before he sits back in the chair.

"May I stay? At least until you fall asleep?"

I nod. I am sorry I hurt him. I know I will do so much worse.

"There is no other way, Arthur."

His hands are fisting on his lap.

"Try to get some rest, Morgana."

I forgive the patronizing tone. He will never forgive me.

It is dark when I wake up. Arthur is still here. His long legs are stretched so his ankles are crossed on the bed. His head is turned toward me, but his eyes are closed. He fell asleep while watching over me. He can be a sweetheart when he wants to. I push the cover to stand on the other side of the bed. I don't want to wake him.

I feel stronger now the spell is gone. I exit through the bedroom quietly. Arthur should not have interfered. He thinks he did the right thing. Fool. Dear foolish Arthur. I am too lost already.

My head fills with murmurs and I have to lean on the wall. The world is spinning around me. My vision clouds. Death is walking the battlefield. Its stench is sickening. Metal screeches against metal. Yells turn into moans. And my blood is laughing… No! No, I will stop that. I need that spell back. It is the only way.

Nauseous, I enter the living room. Merlin is sitting by himself. Merlin poisoned me. Was that pain or hatred in his eyes when he held me dying? Merlin used to be a friend. What is he now? He jumps when he sees me.

"Take me to the Dragon."

"I can't. Arthur…"

I sneer.

"Arthur is a fool! He can't understand Evil..."

"I'm sorry. I can't."

I grab Merlin by his shirt, but he pulled away.

"You tried to kill me once! What's the difference!"

"I didn't want to…"

I hate him. I want to hate him. His eyes are so much like Arthur's, bluer than a midnight sky, bright with tears. I take his hands. This time, Merlin does not resist. His skin is warm under my hands.

"Please, Merlin. You know, you _know_ what I'm capable of. Please help me. It will happen…"

I'm begging. I'm cold in my light night-dress.

"I know."

It is all he says. There's so much sadness in his voice. He is crying. I am crying too. I grip Merlin when nausea takes me again. Pain shots through my body, ripping my stomach open. I am covered with cold sweat. So much pain! I scream, but there is no sound but a baby crying. Blood flows the battlefield. A sword is held!...

"Arthur!..."

I see his face before darkness engulfs me. His eyes are still alive, there is still hope! I can stop everything, if I forget Evil cast his shadow on me. Maybe we'll have a chance.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N : Here we are... First of October. So this is the last chapter before the epilogue, and the day my novel is release... Visit my website to know more : www . claudedancourt . webs . com**

**A/N (b): I told you long ago there are two endings to this story. This is the original one.**

* * *

Chapter 19

* * *

_« Keep away from her. »_

_The prince took another step forward nonetheless._

'_I will take care of her, Arthur, I promise.'_

_Morgause's voice echoed in his head. She was cradling the inanimate body of Morgana almost tenderly. Then a ferocious wind rose around the two women, pushing everything away. And she disappeared, taking Morgana with her. _

* * *

A hand on his biceps tore Arthur from his reverie. He jerked and Morgause smirked. Arthur glimpsed at the sleeping form of Morgana, reluctant to move away from her. He did anyway under the insistent stare of her sister.

"The spell is gone."

"Don't thank me too quickly, Morgause. She must choose before sunset or…"

The blond woman frowned. A flash of wary crossed the dark eyes. They had tried to keep their voices low, but her words reverberated in the silenced room.

"What do you mean, choose?"

Arthur's laugh was joyless.

"The Dragon gave me one day." One day to convince the most stubborn woman on earth to renounce her wish… "He requires Morgana to tell him herself she doesn't want that spell anymore, or the charm will be cast again, forever."

"She will die!"

She grasped his arm.

"I know, Morgause!"

The grip became almost painful.

"You!"

Two blond heads turned toward Morgana. Arthur watched her straighten in the bed. The fever in her eyes was gone, replaced by anger. Furor coloured her cheeks. He couldn't help but smile. For once, she was not angry at him and he could enjoy the show freely. She was ravishing when she was mad.

"Get away from him!"

Morgause kept her mouth shut at the spit, but she didn't move away.

"I forbid you to touch him, brother or not. You doomed me, you won't corrupt him as well! I will not allow it!"

Arthur froze. Brother? Morgana's stare was shining like gold. He felt energy filling the room. Candles on the table lit. The curtains around her bed began to flap to a wind that wasn't there. A jar fell on the floor. The fire in the chimney roared.

The door burst open, and Merlin entered the room, followed by Lancelot.

"What's happening!"

"Take Morgause away from here, Lancelot."

This time, Lancelot didn't discuss Arthur's order. As soon as the door closed behind them, Merlin felt the tingling on his skin decrease. He looked up to Morgana, impressed.

"Wow. You're incredibly powerful…"

Arthur didn't let him more time to marvel.

"Fetch us some food, Merlin."

"But…"

"Now."

Arthur sat on her bed and grabbed her wrists forcing her to meet his stare. Her eyes were forest green again. It was time to get some answers.

"Tell me."

"I am a witch Arthur; witches have magic…"

"Stop humouring me, Morgana."

She started nibbling at her lower lip, looking away. He was too abashed to be distracted by the sight.

"You said _brother_."

Morgana tried to pull her arms from his grip and he held tight.

"You are hurting me."

He released her at once, taking her face in his hands instead to turn it to him. Her skin was soft under his palm. The touch calmed the questions raging inside him.

"Tell me, Ana. Who is Morgause?"

"She's my sister… And yours. My mother and your father."

Arthur felt heat cringed up his neck to his cheeks and then disappeared to leave him icy cold. Morgana took his hands in hers.

"Morgause said it all happened at Beltane. Before your parents or mines got married. Uther was the Hunter."

Arthur knew the practises of the Old Religion. The Hunter bedded the Priestess, and if a child was conceived, the child was blessed by the Gods, gifted with exceptional talents.

"Arthur, we are all Beltane children. Morgause, me, and you."

"I don't have magic." He pouted.

She laughed and pressed her forehead to his cheek. Arthur just discovered he had a sister and that he was born of pagan rites, and all he could think was not having magic? It was so much like him…

"Oh, I assure you, you _are_ special."

He frowned in return. He held that expression he had since childhood, a stubborn pout screaming his annoyance. She remembered that pout so well… Arthur played with their entwined fingers.

"But you and me… We are not related, right?"

"Not by blood."

"Thanks God for that."

Morgana pushed away when he bent toward her. Arthur settled for a light kiss in her hair, his arms coming uncertain around her.

"Don't..."

He let go. Silence fell between them, awkward. He took her hand again and she let him.

"You said she doomed you."

"Morgause hate your father because…"

He shook his head. He knew that part. Morgana took a deep breath.

"I failed you. I lied and I betrayed Camelot. I set Alvarr free, and…"

"I know."

Surprised, Morgana stared at his severe face. His eyes on her were kind, just one bit teasing. Arthur explained.

"I am not that stupid, Morgana… A guard told me about you offering wine…"

She pulled her hands free.

"I accepted to help Morgause. I didn't know she was to put a spell on me, but I accepted to help her. After Merlin… Later, I asked her to teach me. The things I…" she paused. "Please leave me. I am tired."

Her volte-face stunned him. Arthur nearly gave in. Nearly. It was mid-day already and he had only hours left before sunset.

"It's not too late, Morgana. Come back with me. I will protect you."

"I can't."

"But why? You can't sacrifice yourself for…"

"I have to."

"But you regret!"

"It's not enough, Arthur!"

"Yes it is!"

Light and fire erupted around his head again. The halo was clearer than ever, the light eating up the stain of blood. He started pacing. With each step, his anger was rousing a little more. The light around him was fiercely blinding. Morgana closed her eyes.

"Arthur, please..."

He stopped instantly, sitting next to her again with a sheepish smile, sure her weakness was related to his everlasting pacing.

"Sorry."

She smiled back. After a second, he said softly:

"I don't want you to die… Even if I have to lose you to Lancelot."

Lancelot will take Guinevere from him. Her smile faded and she looked away. Arthur interpreted her sadness his own way.

"You love him."

"Well, I must say he's a great kisser."

"I really don't need details, Morgana."

She grinned. Annoying him was still so easy. Arthur got up again.

"Where the hell is Merlin? I'm famished!"

They spent the afternoon together, teasing, arguing about ridiculous things. Morgana told Arthur about her life here with Helen and Lancelot. Arthur explained about the escape of the Dragon. She listened when he talked about the Knights and the reconstruction of Camelot. He smiled when she told him she had learned how to make bread.

Every time Arthur tried to bring back the subject of her enchantment, she closed off, looking away or asking for tea or water. As the hours flew by, he realized they had not been that comfortable with each other in years. His spirit sank and he felt silent, turning to the window. The timid sun was brushing the horizon already.

Arthur stayed put when her hand touched his arm.

"You will be a great king, Arthur, the greatest of all. But even you can't protect me from myself."

He turned from the sunset to look at her beautiful eyes.

"I love you."

"Loving me will kill you."

"You don't know that."

Her fingers on his cheek were tender. He refused to close his eyes under the gentle caress.

"Please, don't be sad. I'm choosing freely."

The last ray of light shadowed her lovely face. Her eyes were clouding already.

"Morgana, what do you see when you look at me?"

She considered his question a moment, before answering.

"Light. I see light."

"Then let me fight the darkness for you!"

Morgana smiled gently.

"I will remember you."

When she tiptoed to press a kiss on his lips, Arthur crushed her against him. Finally, he had found his heart, his Lady Morgana, and she was escaping him already. Embracing her, he kept her with him, caressing her mouth, deepening the kiss when his lungs screamed for air. He wanted to kiss her until the end of times; until the spell struck.

She trembled in his arms. The hands holding his neck eased their grip. The sun had set. Arthur felt tears water his eyes. He scooped the inanimate body in his arms to lay her gently on her bed.

* * *

**Original ending. Please don't hate me.**

Merlin glanced over his shoulder all the way back Hengist's territories. Arthur simply moved forward, with a closed expression his servant new too well. He was looking as if he'd welcome a fight especially a rough one. Merlin guessed the first idtio who would say a word would receive the full blast of the prince's furious despair.

When they stopped after three days of riding, the young warlock finally got a glimpse of his master's eyes. The blue eyes had lost that sparkle of life which used to light them. Once again, he said nothing. And silence became their relationship. Arthur grew more and more distant, with everyone, his friends, his father, Gwen.

Every evening, at sunset, he walked to the walls and watched the sea.

Then, when the king passed away from a strange illness which poked at his brain and made him hallucinate, Merlin watched Arthur standing near the body, tearless. And he prayed Morgana had chosen differently, for the silence that now was Albion's future broke his heart.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Alright... So it's Halloween, and this is the alternate ending for this fic... **

_**Extract : chapter 19**_

_Morgana smiled gently._

_"I will remember you."_

_When she tiptoed to press a kiss on his lips, Arthur crushed her against him. Finally, he had found his heart, his Lady Morgana, and she was escaping him already. Embracing her, he kept her with him, caressing her mouth, deepening the kiss when his lungs screamed for air. He wanted to kiss her until the end of times; until the spell struck._

_She trembled in his arms. The hands holding his neck eased their grip. The sun had set. Arthur felt tears water his eyes. He scooped the inanimate body in his arms to lay her gently on her bed._

* * *

Epilogue

The door opens and I quickly turn my head to the intruder.

"Arthur, will you ever learn to knock?"

The words are harsh, but I'm smiling.

"I could not let my Lady waiting for her beloved, could I?"

He bends over me. I laugh, but I push him away before he kisses me.

"You are disgusting. You are not coming anywhere near me before you bath."

My rebuff hits a nerve.

"If you had accepted to live in Camelot, I would not need to pretend going hunting to come to you. Sometimes, I am very tempted to ask Merlin to play with your memory… You were much more compliant then…"

My smile tells him I don't believe the first word of it.

I didn't come back to Camelot. His light, his love, fought the shadows around me. The spell didn't work the second time and I am free. Not completely, never completely; but for now, the halo around his head is bright, shining like gold. He is safe, at least for now. He is pouting. God, I love that childish pout…

"You know I can't. Plus, pretend to go hunting does not mean you actually _have_ to hunt."

"Well, I like it. And…"

A soft voice interruptes him again inches from my mouth.

"The bath is ready, my Lord."

I move away and Arthur growls. I chuckle before turning to my maid.

"Thank you. You can go, Patty, I will take care of him."

He makes a lemon face at me, which I answer with one of my own. I am not to allow him to touch me before he cleans up.

"Morgana, can you…"

He need help to undress of course. I quickly work on the laces of his shirt. It's stiff with mud and what looks too much like animal blood. I like to annoy him, but it has been so long... Arthur is jittery, which is not very helpful.

"Where's Gwen?"

"Home, with her husband. The baby is coming."

The image of his former sweetheart with Lancelot's off-spring in her arms makes him smile. Arthur asked Lancelot to stay with me, when I refused to go back to Camelot. And on his first visit, Gwen was accompanying him. She stayed, too. I never told him… Sometimes, he is more sensible that he cares to show. Or he was simply jealous, and used the trick to be sure I won't be tempted… As if I could look at a knight, when a king gave me his heart.

He is surprised when I kiss him. He should not be. I love him.

"I'm glad you're here."

Arthur can not resist the temptation.

"Enough to join me into the bathtub?"

"Maybe in your dreams…"

_The end is just the beginning._

_September 2010_

* * *

**_A/N: Thank you to all for the support and the kind reviews... Can't wait to have your opinion on my novel :)_**


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